Nine In The Afternoon

ink is running from the page
i know its mad (isnt it)
reminds me of things
yet to happen
the window is all
sanity has a hold of
bells ringing (and ringing and ringing)
too smart to fall for it
i wont cater to the fire
alone in this crowded room
nine in the afternoon
an eye for an eye (but theyre blind)
moth in the cold (and dark)
flatlines and chalk outlines
fake faces peering from desks
its not a sickness
its an addiction
they dont really care
vultures hungry for news
of failure
the bell tolls
they take flight