The eyes open, but everything’s still black. Body floating, but certainly sinking. Heart is stalling, but the mind races. This could be Abaddon, but the devil’s so kind. Sensing are fading off, because the lack of any light. “This can’t be, no, not one of those cases.” Lift your hands towards the sky, convinced that you are still alive. Piling on so strong, like you’re going to sleep. “My body’s high and dry, you can’t convince me otherwise.” Freezing arctic dreams. Weeping solar beams. Steam on frigid streams; what did it all ever mean? Effortless empty minds. Careless malevolent lies. Sharpless bitter eyes. Drowning under ink black skies. “You feeling alright?” Look up at those stars, and how faint they are. They aren’t just meant to distract, but as the drug that keeps me awake. Deep in those ink black skies. “But it feels good. So good.” “Well, I can’t tell what it is” I refuse to see the darkness.
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