In Japan the color of mourning is white. The blinding flash of strangled brain Festooned above the funeral route, All the crepe-stream blank of pigment, Blank the mind once dying's done. Maybe find a bit of hope there, thought Of light beyond alive, not The blackness promised by A firm belief in nothing.
2.
Regardless of catharsis thus-far crying's done no good it seems the sap can leak all trite and flood surround with sighs but I I'll still be penitent for naught for all the wrongest sins, to own up must say "vanity's what needs my focus" I--a deal so ******* big no other face can crowd the mirror of my mind's eye, I all I see, see
No one looms quite large enough to crowd me from my view.