Life is an interlude
between two deaths...

Truth is my home.
Truth is flowers...

Everyone
is going to work...

They just see perspective
for their attention is conditioned...

They augment their lips with silicon smiles.
There is no solace...

About an hour passed
in the arms of silence...

We must again,
learn these mundane paths...

Hell is sediment
Whatever resist burning...

They all rot and fade
these shoots of expectation...

The bride moon waltzes
with shadow nocturne groom of...

I have seen THE horror
of where the truth...

Upon the perspective of the oppressive past,
the fragments of bygone prospects...