Work man

I charge Through the night Like a buffalo child. There is darkness in my eyes And my hope, It's a flickering light. As if it were a candle Disappearing into whispy Smoke My eago is an ice cube But my heart, Is a dead man's Heart Beating sludge Instead of blood, And emptiness Is my mind, I write this poem, As my nightmares Come true. And as the Spider spins It's web