[?7hThe Eleventh Hour

"Flores para los muertos..."
- Tennessee Williams

I turned to stare at the clock,
And my course seemed fixed...
I can feel it's fleeting thoughts...
The clock struck the Sixth hour-

Time echoing through every vortex of human convention,
Breathing "loss" with every second gone,
I can hear it coming close,
Pass the Seventh hour-

Every moment I live,
I live...
And if I am to be strong,
I'll win...
And now I see women waving goodbye to the Eighth hour-

Dreams of a dimming sky,
What lies in darkness we are tought to fear,
I always thought if I could stare into the unknown
and not lose my sanity,
I would be able to escape that insane ticking,
Background music of our age,
Escape the Ninth hour-

Breathing sky,
Bear down your flowers upon us...
And with a short breath regret,
Down a shot and forget,
As the Tenth hour sneaks on bye-

Here we stand,
Ancient souls on their last battlefield,
Our clothes, tattered,
The flag is lost...
Death come quick, but be swift,
Youth, rise up,
But it's burning now,
Who could concieve what we leave behind?-

What lies beyond
In emptiness,
I'll fill myself with a bottle,
Here we sit,
Buzzards perched on death,
Perched on our Eleventh Hour-


Lit by: Mister E.
[C R E A T O R S  O F  I N T E N S E  A R T]