The Watchers

Chills run cold along the seams
An empty room spied at dusk
Costly memories haunt and distort
Truth precarious to the armor of the mind

Reasons bleed thin as madness broods
Time relative to wantings and wishings
Ne'er in the moment, traveling in leaps
Skipping life to favor well-kempt boxes

A new dawn comes just as before
An echo pushing forward the clamoring mob
Doomed from the start, we warred and we waned
As if we never really cared at all

What to become of it, the metamorphosis of time
Key moments sacrificed to pay passage for others
Furies loosed upon docile shores
To awaken the slumbering god-kind

Truth be known: Hell hath no home but within
Astride to one's dewdrop heart
Shadowing one's clockwork mind
Tethered to the transience that binds