When their eyes glaze the outside, they see nothing

Coldness

Bitterness

They see the lock and chains

Isolation's name smeared in blood on the door

The masons of insecurity seailing the last stone into place

On the sturdy foundation

Of the distant worlds beyond outside comprehension

And the last stitch of the gagging patch is sewn

The ever-present cries and laughs and smiles and dejection

Trapped in the same prison

By the preachers of eternal warfare

And the ersatz deities of judgement

O' bow to the kings and queens of plastic!

As the rolling head of each broken angel falls

Molting wings shedding to the bone

Haunted by the constant pounding

Pounding

Pounding 

Of the cursed machine that fluctuates behind twisted prison bars

Driven mad by the valiant hiss prodding thr sides of their brains

The glitter in their eyes chased away

'Till nothing but a shell remained

A dead shadow of what once was

For some, though, there are things that go bump in the night

Their ominous tail a little darker

Crimson light behind their eyes

As they envision ti pour down a porcealin canvas

The smiles writhing on their lips smell of bile

They never quite meet their gaze

But never mistake timidity for weakness

Or difference for sin

Because it is they who glean that

The most beautiful of things happen

When there are no more black holes to meet

No more dead souls to laugh with

Or walls to put up

When the only constants in their lives cradle them

The familiar moisture of 

Failure

Regret

Pain

Silence

Isolation

Hatred

Fear

Helplessness

Hopelessness

Lulling them to sleep

The rumbling stomach qualms a final serenade

As the lights fase out a final time

While they sleep alone