plant me in the ground
and press your foot into the
earth I sleep under
so forcefully that I will
never be able to hear
a single clap of rolling thunder
again
and if you cry,
just remember that
it's not you fault that
you can't bring the dead back to life

ice water shot through through my veins
that's almost as cold as the barren landscape of my mind.
one by one every single cell in my body,
becomes numb to the point of insanity.
arms no longer move.
head unable to be lifted.
so you stare at the agonizingly white ceiling,
and try to keep your eyes open long enough
to see something with any sort of meaning.
something my brain can hold on to
for fear of losing the humanity that's left.
so I paint your blue eyes with the will I still have;
trying so hard to capture the light
that the sun himself injected straight into them.
and by fate or by chance,
I can sometimes get the color of them
exactly right.
the one and only shade
of any color
that returns some feeling
back to me.