The night is my last comfort,

An end to the trying day.

I wait for you to come to me,

So dreams will find their way.

My restless eyes grow weary,

My soul clings for its release

From the bitter taste upon my tongue,

And loves unfinished feast.

For what are we.. these kindred fools;

That bear life’s wretched touch,

We are but meager dreamers,

And dare to live as such.

-Antony King



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s