the emptiness of the hours

the emptiness of the hours before dawn, the cracked night removed from light scuttles frantically through the dark,what awaits the wanderer, the solitariness of selflessness, one natural being floating across a barren world of lifeless machinery and slavishness. constant slumber and repetition cover the dense landscape. the unknowing and deluded sleep as children awaiting their mothers milk, trusting the tit will always be given. or run screaming into the light when it is withdrawn. what lust impregnated mind clouds the horizons and thunders through the valleys of consciousness, deleting all manner of awareness and reason. outside is just a thin wallpaper thickness away and the emptiness is spread so thin it cracks like an eggshell and sucks the unwary dreamer into nightshaded frightmares, filled with the undeluded passion of knowing what wanting really feels like.the paper mache and tinkertoy world arises like a dead cat from the gutter and slaps on a wrinkled face and trousers with a burst of frantic fear and dies a million deaths preparing for a war no one admits they are losing everyday. crawling on bellies swollen from abuse and excess, life examines the remains of its handiwork, pulling out the missed stitches and warping the wrappings until all truth is hidden and only lies remain. capitulate and die the stalwart cry as every heart surrenders its light to the darkness come round the world to alight upon the very spot you inhabit, thinking this is enough, just to be me is all i want not knowing that is the end of you and all your dreams. what you think is the reason for your failure and disease and in the darkness the smell of  decay and rotten flesh is everywhere. choose your coffin and take it with you where it will be handy, for every moment you enclose it, hold it, lay deeply within and breathe it as the shovels fly and the dirt becomes the wall of the undead awaiting dawning where roaming freedom is without flesh or bone and angels float through to choose the holy. in dreams they sense their loss and plunge into the mayhem of understanding in fields abandoned by their fathers and left for children to discover as they may.the surrender of the last awaits everyone, and whether now or after a million nows, the end is near and far and in your every thought, deleting you and all you are and do, until only the last thought remains, when does it finally end?