i look at your body, as i might stare
at the moon, as i might peer
at your shadow, and the sun subsequent,
with body intact, of lost shadow,
and night, shadow, & moon intact;
who are you, to ask the question?!
what presumptious  leverage do you
find, the least morbid: intact facet,
worthy of an asked
                     cool?!
where are we,
guised in years lost,
               to never see them
upon an ask of a return...
forgetting is hardly a way
to be left reminded...
death always seemed a martyr's
corridor,
than a scrapheap
of martyrdom's scrap heap
of the lastly remaining
beckoning of a bargained "soul";

leave me worded, untill i am finally
wordless...
       and in chase of words:
heaving akin to a child
lost, camera-shy, and
kaleidoscope prone...
   here i am, the last ensured
ownership of dictated pretense...

here we are,
levying the last remaining quest
for the last rampant request,
of the lost and last,
requesting a thirst for sleep;

might i add?
  
    good night,
  and with the riddle for those, waking
with a tomorrow:

good morning,
     and with yesterday's despair,
i bid you hello,
akin to the biting knee grip in fold of:
      a prayer inviting "farewell".