118.


Death is a combustion, and destruction of all senses.

A speck in the grand scheme of things,
I am skeptical of why I am left with —
Half truths, and whole lies.

I look at the sunset with stoned eyes.

Your love is very distant, and I would swim a far distance.

I began to get upset, with cold cries.
The pain of life is simply bold dyes.

Red and blue.

I bleed red,
I cry a blue hue.

Tears that are clear, for when death that is near.

Any moment can be my last,
even if danger is not present.

It is omnipresent.

The smoke crisps, and I lightly inhale for every second made alive with grace.

I take in the moment, where I can feel my own face.
I listen to the magnificent, magnifying stars in my internal space.

My world is broken to be healed.

Death is a combustion of all of this, when I opened my eyes wide,
In seconds they close,
periodically into the dark place.

The sky falls, but I’ll rise.
My world becomes alive, the more that I try…