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.
And how many gods does it take to change a light?