i feel
the icy phantom hands
grasp at my leg
through the torn
meniscus of hope
clutching feebly
trying to draw
the last bit of warmth
from the corpse of dream

i hear
the cacophonous dead
as they parade
goose-stepping along
the scattered shattered
fragment of wonder
stripped callously
from the wide open gaze
of candid reflection

i know
that all i am
is a discarded drawing
of childhood fears
a reflection of rejection
from a maternal gaze
in crude crayon sketches
a light tower
ensconced in darkness
glaring over
a sea of stillborn aspirations

i am
a wave
on an ocean
of nothingness
as reflected
in the dead eyes
of an albatross
frozen
in midflight