False Sleepwalker

In the dark you head towards the crossroads

where the wind blows without restraint

cold and soulless like a wax figure

at times rising over the clouds

you won’t get here in the daytime,

you won’t see anything in the light of day

the gale is flapping its iron wing

staring inside with its eyes like two abyssal vaults

The armoured heart won’t break, it’ll just fall into the gulf of feelings

Hundreds of nights, hundreds of days

All mercilessly sad

All cruelly lonely

All pervaded with gloom

All marked with pain

Over at the sky that never ever dawns

fell clouds of pallid spectres spellbinding shadows bleak

eyes so dark that you need to turn away lest you fall into the void

murk seeps in every night, of blackness made, in coldness carved

a swarm of morbid phantasms is teeming in your thoughts

their deathly hands upon your brow

the sleepless flock pushing at you

leering at you

Hundreds of nights, hundreds of days

Your legs heavy like black tombs

you’ve been roaming like that for centuries

your eyes quietly fading away like the moon over the sea

caressing like the eternal vastness of black sapphires

the muffled thunder’s roaring

sleep’s hounding you like a pack of wolves

watching you trapped within the stillness of dead silence