The coming lights in the sky, betrayed and susceptible

Time domain of cascading timbres with luciferin
Swatting mats like dross doggerel vehicles of apprehension
Awaiting this tomorrow today like a waste in the collarbone
And the temper of a flaunting sandmouse, preserved docent
Field-hands in the memory to ash riddled tyrants
And sad news employers making bogs like tired forewarning
Spasms of empty notches without the time to stay awake
Or the blessed ensemble that keeps you alive