the weary bones

a double shot of
expresso and a
side order of
cynicism  
 
faith murdered by
skepticism in cold
blood  
 
the soul hangs heavy  
with the gravity of
experience
 
experiences are the  
broken bones of
hopes and
dreams
 
bravery sleeps in
the mouth of
night
 
the wrath of God
is dead leaves  
in a dry
rain
 
the earth twist and  
turns
 
suffering from Frankenstein  
dreams of
rebirth
 
and I cannot find a single  
place to rest  
these weary
bones