Disjointed

 And, 

for the love of things, 

frowned upon things, 

things of the world, 

a man smiles at oblivion 

And, 

for the price of dreaming is too high, 

and the lazy bones creak under its weight, 

dreams demand more than one can give

the slow ebb of time passes by. 

before you bring me a cup of poison 

look at the disjointed bones 

disjointed dreams, 

and worry not about why I am who I am