Like fire, and hurt, and sin

by Mr Rhee

The air is cold, and bites at my face.
Each step is a fight, and a goal.
I inhale, and my lungs burn,
like fire, and hurt, and sin.

The sun is, somehow, dimmed.
Shadows, reach, and crawl, slowly.
I open my eyes, and look up,
and still see nothing above me.

The ocean shore, does not roar.
Dark waves do not crash, or spray.
I walk in beach water, that runs thick,
like a dirty, petrid, salty soup.

The mountains, are gray, with rotten snow.
Their majestic perches, have crumbled.
I climb the old rocks, and cut my hands,
and let my blood drip, down, into the cracks.

The trees are not green, or tall, anymore.
Leaves, will not grow, or turn in the fall.
I touch the wood, that is now, turned stone,
like a diamond, with no bright glamor.

The world, is not blue, nor green, nor white.
The sun, moon, and the stars, have no light.
I kneel, and pray, and hope, and cry,
and the empty wind in my ear, is all that comes.

The heart, within my chest, no longer beats.
These sinews, and muscles, do not move.
I lay here, in my grave, and hold my breath,
like time, and space, waiting to begin, again.