the Incorporeal weight
of the world on your shoulders.
the gate-less gate
seen by blind beholders.

it smolders
as it sinks into your flesh,
becoming your bones,
filling your chest,
with green and pink;
you're puking blue!
the world never knew
what happened to you.

and when it dropped off from the tips of your shoulders,
because you had fallen, head first, into boulders,
we found that neither of you were the holder.
not you nor the world,
whose form you had hurled.
it keeps getting brighter.
it keeps getting colder.
we never get younger,
nor do we grow older.