My eyelid curtains are shuttered

sorrow decimates my heart

tiny shards flying through window

smashing on my essence sidewalk

where I used to walk, unfettered.

Life's black draperies obliterate

the lighted world where I once trod.

I can watch my spirit play out

breathless in the blankness

of my soul canvas, struggling

to come into crystal light

breaking through powdered towers

of what I might have been, before

my nightmares careened recklessly

into solitary corners of my mind.

Hush pretty baby, don't you cry,

I'm gonna sing you a lullaby.

Shut your eyes,

And say your goodbyes.

Let the curtains fall,

Stop the tears that shower like rainfall.

It'll all be over soon,

An end will come to this typhoon.

You wish it would be quick,

As you listen to the clock's tick, tick, tick.

I promise you won't feel a thing,

Except maybe a sting.

Your ears may ring,

But try to hear me sing.

I swear you'll feel better.

So hush pretty baby, don't you cry.

The end is nigh,

Why don't you shut your eye,

So the one that doesn't have to do it is I.

Sleepy is the auditorium before the rise of the drapes.

Bustling back stage crews Stuffed together in large traffic's of people.

Gowns for the ladies , Stylish Gentlemen in Capes.

Whores on the side set ,posing like Nuns under a steeple.

In theater  our bodies  always dancing with emotion.

The Performance a tune we Hum, as our persona we mold.

Vividly Casting Color onto the Grey Ocean.

Paint us White, Paint us Silver or Gold.

By the End of the Night your Desire's we have stole.

Let them come and bring our millions, Turn it to coin, count the trillions.

Strewn lips as they part, Diving in to take the Breathe of each beating heart.

Raise the Curtain and let us show you our art.

"Goddammit, Sullivan! How many times have I told you that pink is not an acceptable substitute for magenta? Magenta is a beautiful, dignified hue, and you dare disgrace it by comparing it to that disgustingly immature excuse for a color known as "pink"? Shame on you, Sullivan, I think we need to think about divorce."

"Carol, come on. You're being unreasonable. They're just curtains, who cares about curtain colors anyway?"

"Silence! Home decorating is serious business, and I expect you to respect it as such, or face my wrath."

"Carol, I-" he sighs, "Whatever, I'm sorry. Look, how about I do something else, like, um, where should I move that red couch?"

"Red? Red? Sullivan, you imbecile, that it not red, that is crimson!"