Moments in a Dull Era

The only source of energy
seems to recycle on its own.
The sun sleeps alone this season.
Shedding the promises of warmth
All movement around begins to slow.
Time becomes a somber chain.
Subjected to expire..
Life is all but a dim shade of gray.
As if the graphite of my words
Smudges everything into a blur.
The only sentimental value one can hold.
Is the meaning to the meaningless.
While the atmosphere consumes the living.
Digesting their false hope.
Silence emits a recognizable feature..
To the voiceless and barren lands..
The worth of being is extinction..
Swallowing the tail to the beginning..
Where the lips of scrutiny form
Such succulent sharp thorns provide
the purpose to impale
and to embed into the skin
The mind cannot oppose
The formidable inevitability
 of an hourglass
 that spreads within
the hands of desert plains
To the threads of fate
concealed on weaving spirals
Twisting In dilation to the points of
constellations breaking
As if the sky was made of glass
Branches in the stars expand cracks.
To where delicate particles and Debris
Come to condense into an eternity
Shaping this transitional process
Into a numbing elixir.