How many more times
Will I die
Before I find life
In its scarcest places?

Cry me a river,
Hum me a song.
Whisper me a shout,
Find where I belong.

Orchestrate me a melody,
Incinerate me a candlelight,
Shout me a far off whisper,
Let me fall to a worldly blight

Spiders weaving golden threads,
Through our dreams
And around our silent heads.
The life running through our hair,
Attracting dreamweavers to our minds.

But all it takes is a bit of a bite,
And the once golden thread,
devolves to red,
And the once lavish life,
Disintegrates to lead.

Lines marking a shimmering border,
Silence marks the void between.
Life and death are all that stand
In the way of a world pristine.

The labelmaker does not discriminate,
The labelmaker creates the groundwork for it.

Maybe silence is what I need
A break, away from love and greed.

An obsession of possession
And a possession of obsession.

How much longer
Before I turn deaf
In the dimming static
Of this forsaken planet.

Numbers rising
Like falling stars.
Galaxies away?
No...
Right outside my door.

Striping flames
Burning names
Cindered letters
Breaking fetters
A novel of ashen lies
Slowly dies