Stream of Shattered Conciousness

I woke up this morning with these words in my head. I found them interesting. Or perhaps, this is just the downward slide into psychosis for me.

Sing to me my unic.

The parable of the raven is no more.

Comfort me. I can no longer bear to wash these useless rocks.

I shall dream in the swirls of your song.

Of when the sun used to drink the light from the earth and the earth was washed in darkness.

The holder of the unfocused eye sees no more.

Sing.