Giant whispers
In color.
Luminous
Are your
Casualties.
Abstract breath
Gives those chills
That creep
And creep
Down this
Peachy flesh
Wrapped around
My soul.
Exhibit this.
Strip all else
And leave
Only
Color.
Banging my head
Against the
Wall of the
Interior.
Let me, please,
Oh, let me in!
I have the
Tool
Of the new man.
Death
Is not the
Only color
I see you in.
So much
Suicide.
All I see
All I hear
All I touch.
What are we
Humans, then -
But passengers
On a bloody road
To nowhere
And nothing?
We want
Reasons.
We want
Answers.
There's always
Another springtime
On its way.
Oh, how the birds do sing.
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