Between the Dates
I hear undead voices
They bridge my thoughts
They mock my choices
They reach me in my dreams
Leading me to dark things
With only the hope of a spark
They push me to make my art
How can anyone ever be so unaware
Of the beauty that resides in thin air
Lights stain the sky an orange hue
Surely lightning bolts will cut right through
In the green grass of July
Trees are digging graves while they are alive
Seasons come and go
Trends change and I refuse to anymore
I dream and I wish
One day I'll get something out of this
Days change with time and space
Savor the line between the dates.