7, Nothing good

Fiery skys light up the eye of the one I can't yet see my self without hats and hands making it hard to consentrate on the task at hand fear turning simplisity out to a visit to the one place I never thought I would be crashing on my bested clutch sleep aluding my eyes fritened to now what's out sid the walls of this house as lions and wolfs fall on the ground outside turning the first night alone to tarred and fed for the monsters thar awat the deems I hold away for dear life dancing rainbows in the forgeound of dinasors eating the left over remnents of old horror fliks travling to oz in a papercup full of the ink I wasted last year drowning in the thought I will not wake up in the morning cluching wooden frames for fear I might fall off the earth to tiers to care I try to sleep away sword of ink at my side redy to stab the lions at the window redy to kill
by jhone doe