Visiting Hours

Let’s drink to chase the sun.
Recollect old thoughts.
Tear down walls.
Lock doors of no purpose
that are hard to close when sober.

Speak freely
from god-like heights,
smiting and defining
all our sins.

Underneath the skin and bone
of a mere human being.
The once pure soul is left
damaged and stranded.

I find it fascinating that cemeteries dance
when everybody’s asleep.


– From Oceans Of Ink