Beneath the deadbeat sun
Were scribed the words of immortality:
A down-trodden path of forgiveness decimated by frailty.
The decimation a horror;
Lapses in time coincide with mercurial human judgment.
The light passes through
That light drew
The vastness of nothingness alludes us all —
Targeting us in a meteoric shower of incendiary guilt is our human spirit.
The blood in our veins was a creation of the stars,
Our friends of the night.
We follow chopped white lines to a destination that doesn’t exist:
But that’s okay. That’s right.
Knowing too much is holding a gun in an ammo shop.
The thrill will always exist,
if we let it.