Just another beginning for a reflection that's out worn its welcome Two figures walked in honesty And i could feel deafness Gnawing at my fingertips If i could gnaw my fingertips Impatient itching a growing mutiny what is left of flesh slowly, Beaten down by an unchecked brow If i could force a conclusion Then i would breathe in consequence If i could dream in consciousness Bleached out sands, oubliettes, the endless white rooms of mansions Tease a prayer- remember to forget A thousand forms of apologies, anything to escape this fifteen minute dream.