Somber Starkness (Of Everyday Pavements)

I know everything is adrift and lingering pavements,
but I feel like I've been there since everything's prospects.
Without sending off, without everything's beyond...
Are memories ought to lighten you up?
Or do tears have the answers afar disenchantments?
This time I will come around
for it may be myself, far eyed wide and found;
and all these tears will turn to wonders...
I'm out of sight but there's within the child...
Do I breathe in? Do I inhabit everyone;s specters?
Must I see to shoot the moon of consolations,
or should I rather wonder my shenanigans?
Am I of a solitude trance?
Is anyone there beyond everything's pavements?
Pavements are still pavements, and the child wants me to persist;
Pavements are calling me,
I feel all the starkness to subsist.

Morphine

[shakespearean sonnet]

One new morning I woke up with the devil.
With coffee in his hand, we had a talk.
I said I had a dream that made me still.
He asked 'what?' in a voice like he was my folk.
I looked at him and then to the ceiling.
I looked at him and he was grossly gone.
I stood from bed and saw his head hanging
near my window beside the combusting sun.
One morning I woke up with an angel.
With bottled water in hand, she greeted
me with a smile; she's like a precious jewel;
she's a feast that makes my stomach well fed.
I woke up looking at the canopy -
I killed myself beneath the old oak tree.