One night of bad dreams
and the words either come easily
with the intrinsic obedience
of man’s best friend
Or scuttle away
on immortally illusive legs
August idled by like a fever dream
September ambles in
to jest at yesterday’s nightmares
To tell you Silence is not golden
but the gold plated steel
constructing the landscape of each bad dream
That can only crumble like sweet summertime
when September kisses August
with eyes open wide
