Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

Death is to become sunshine,
To break open the self to the world,
In sunwheat gold and peasant hearth,
(The sun is the only empire of peasants)
Every grain of annihilation is still a seed,
And the sunlight carries the sleepless dead,
Their melted voices are warm upon our ears,
The sounds rooted in, but when we do not hear,
No more than the dead worshiping the dead.

The sky blue
The sun setting
Clouds rolling in
The whisper of rain
Another day disappearing
Another day without you
Another day of emptiness

he said he couldn’t breathe,
so they took his last breath

The birds whistle away
Tweeting favourite lullabies.
The sun has transformed
Oranging,
From her brilliant yellow hue.
She vanished,
Hiding in her room.

The day
Which once posed
In bright neon shades
Of noon,
Has tasted the shadows
Of the moon.

A slice of the moon
Flaunts herself
In the naked, neutral dark skies.
The earth rages queerly.
Vomitting  a warning sign.


My mind dabbles
In its ignorant guessing
As I gaze upon
The uncertain skies.

I feel like a meteor
Might fall to the earth
Tonight.