Strike The Witless Steam

dripping like waste from the colour spectrum
the eyes you taste and see are false
like plastic blossoms dissolving in the acid rain
hearts afire and the species is left to drown and burn
fearless impertinence strikes the witless steam
and cold hands shutter against blistered winds
the mind grows quiet, listless and unsettled
like the threads of time lost in historic shocks
while wandering scowls abound the flocks alight
dusk sets in and we are blinded by its light
noiseless hours go by and chew at our beings
sands and soils eroded amidst the grey skin
hung in haste from shattered chalky bones
that will smell of life yet once again soon
in the relative passing of aeons and millennia
fields of twisted wires, cables, spines and cords
we knew these answers well at some point
before we guessed what questions we should ask
and left our thoughts impaired by ghostly image
seeking hope amongst the ruin, light amongst the dark
frost between raindrops and the dew of blasphemy
that has yet to be unknown but still forsaken
strangled in the arms of joyous sentience
withering away in the depths of innocence
forgotten it would be if memory could hold
these faceless notions tight and love them still
open into these words a song, a sound, sin waves
numeric dreams with broken codes upon which
we could set the record straight, to play it
listless and absorbed with twinkling smiles
on the lips of young and old, alive and dead
friend and foe, beast and beauty, hill and valley
where we shall soon be set free to roam
while we sleep the rest are journeying further
into the intrepid, unwanted and undiscovered.