Eyes. Feet. Lips. Teeth. Brows. Hair. Nose. Fingers. Ears. Neck. Chest. All is cold. None left. Where's the heat? Where's the love? Where's the life? All is cold. None left for no one. The box hangs low down the unearthed ground. It feels very much strange knowing the sun shines upon the lost. Providing a ray acting as a guided path towards the Ultimate. Be it exist. Now that it is done, it cannot be undone. We can miss, we can cry, we can die. Nothing can be done to undo the happened.
Long awaited.
Anger and rage swapping hurt and grief. Like players of musical chairs. They take turns. A whirlpool of red, black, and grey. Swirl, swirl, swirl. Colors and lies unfurl. Out the mouth be it slurred. Like cigarette stained fucking lies. Come crashing/pulling down the path of destruction. Knocking lives aside by side. It feels as if the end is near. All giving way; set loose upon the fallen ground. Sucking all that is beneath the sun enforcing up forth negativity. Fall, further down the ground, deep down. Give up, she calls.
