Verbosity versus Sleep Deprivation.

Ice-breathed irises,
lathered in hope,
steadfast, your gaze
adorns this cold-
hearted cynicism
and lightens my load.
Release aged agonies,
my now-tethered soul.

Cinnamon zephyr,
breathed from the kitchen
simmers these crackled
stairs in ascension.
Old eyes, forgotten;
a novel extinction
borne through a morning
that we'll never mention.

Words strung like cereal
bracelets we put
together for art's sake
and not understood.

St. Nicolaus, in
search for its meaning,
unravels them all;
rearranges the beading.
In such a process,
new truth he's a breeding,
and the heart of art's sake
continues its beating...