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the city lights' artificial life brush away night's death, i wonder if Je?us was happy with so much sorrow in a single life. Pop! goes a neon sign in the sanctimony of a single life, and the embers float in mid-  winter's air glowing heart steady,glowing in confetti explosion, raining upon the invisible umbrellas, cast downward a gloat from the fireworks of disaster's symphony, i wonder if the cr?ss was black and not brown, and Flames! ignite the streets of harlequin nights, cast upward a grin from the ground of flaming fury, SYMPHONIC CHAOS, and watching the ants scurrying makes Je?us' eyes slant downward, and the cr?ss undergoes one last glimpse of mankind at unrest. |
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They spoke about him as if he were already dead. They said he had the disease. But it was alright, they said, because he had lived a good life. And they went on drinking their tea, and enjoying their patio parties, and his name would come up,  and they politely had awkwardmoments of silence. Eventually someone would say it's ok, he'll be in a better place And the party would go on. They would speak of their enemies, and complain about their servants, and somehow all the while keep their heads on straight, Because all the while he was alive, he had said he wouldn't die alone, but there he was now, in his sunken bed in the corner, with his eyes wide open, counting the tiny holes in the ceiling. |
