The morning brought the tremors of gray tumors in the sky and it’s such a shame that you had to hang yourself to dry your eyes you broke the Sun once you stared too long just to find that you were blind and what’s your name? just an acronym of letters without the words to tell them better and It burned the colors in the rain and made you bask in the pity of the sane you were the working dead running from the living red just finding sunshine in the telescope a morbidity without the soap dangling on a rope a sad addiction to fictional afflictions as an urgency and Exit signs away your strife with white gloves and an empty smile of love from above.