Narcissistic Funeral

Opened my veins yesterday and poured in the twilight
 With its dead promises, nothing makes sense in an imaginary world that no one can touch
 In the strange hours I dream of evenings under moonrise and of fashioned ideals
 Before they could turn and go, had seeped their treachery into my widowed summers
 Is this my lover, this face of death? I recoil to the unmoving view
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 The soft, voiceless emotions escape the exhausted frame to assail tomorrows empty heaven
 The dawn, with its dull smell, fills my nostrils
 And the stench of a burning sun separates the hope from silent lips
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 There is something painful in the first spring bud of life
 It tears at the insides and claws at the doors of tenderness
 That riseth in black forms from an obsolete graveyard
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 To cast my eyes on the horrors you have created
 Or to turn and gaze at the clouds?
 It remains cold and dark and the painless times revel in a distant memory
 That only seem to trespass when the night is clear
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 The bitterness tastes sweet and it conjures up images
 Of a narcissistic funeral
 That injure my dreams
 Narcissistic dreams
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 The wordless world bleeds to the point of despair
 And the failed attempts to move end in quiet massacres
 The lurid calm is a stalking mountain that eludes the perceptive eye
 But eventually overwhelms to send us cowering