Ah, yes, 3:53AM again; the red block letters holds my eyes.
Give me peace of sleep, please, my soul yearns for nothingness, or wonderous dreams.
Now, 3:54AM, so sure is the wretched clock, no peace for my heart.
Yesteryear, dredge the lost feeling of hands on chains, wind rushing first fro, then rear, swinging, the race of my pulse, seeing the grass flee my eyes, and the blue sky captured above for the nounce.
Lean deep back, with legs stretched out, then pull to the front, bringing feet beneath me. The cadence sickening, but in my hands, my pace.
Seep my soul those simple images of yester year, filling the void of those red block letters and todays sorid losts. My squeals and laughter of the past are filled with the taste of salt today.
Mock my peace, while my soul hungers for calm, while those red block letters march slowly past.