The dead of night
Is staring through the window.
The sky is crucified,
And I am with it.
Pinned
To this perpetual void.

I love the night.

The sun is ugly in the morning.
It’s bloody, shapeless.
Like my innards
That hang like weights
Within the shell of my existence.

I’m dying.

In the afternoon
The sun avenges me with heat.
I used to love this lapis lazuli
But now I know,
It’s cheap.
(Like jewelry at a convenience store.)

The evening comes,
I quarrel with mosquitos.
They seek to murder me.
I watch the slaying of the Sun
Replaying for the millionth time.

Where does the sun collect it’s strength?
To want to be reborn?

This question stupefies me.

Does it intend
To squeeze a cheesy tear
Out of the eyes of hungry lovers?
That seem to have forgotten
That they are not alone
At this deserted beach?

I wish the sun was wiser.
But it does come back
To haunt me in the morning.
And makes me ask the question
I could not answer yesterday.

Again.

I thought I killed this world
And celebrated it’s demise.
But here it comes once more,
To torment me with glee.

I dream.

I fold into the web of light
And crawl into the void,
Dissolving
In the dead of night.

I worry not.
For I am cunning.
I am clever.
I will cheat.

I will embrace the death
And be reborn.

This is my curse.
(To live forever
In this dream.)