Poetry - "Night on the Sill"

Night on the Sill Still and unborn static lie in front of my ever wandering,Crackle and whirl around like constrained wet sheets,Dripping, weighing down the exact, and pullingwet fibres of my molten landscape.Foreign pink hues superimposed onto darkbases, romanticising, dulling the true sharp edge,Press into my bone until we are one and the same,Capture my soul, make me shiver in myunknown solitary space,Seek to mend the disillusionedSpirit away~