You walk the halls of the universe, wander galaxies far,
Where death doesn't happen and past, future, myth and fate intertwine on sheets of light and covers of darkness,
But you walk the halls of a deviant mind, dead for ages now,
And the pulse in your wrist is a hollow drum's thud, where nothing but a false living keeps you from a hereafter,
You aren't the one nor only, nor are you the last,
I've been wondering about your wicked dreams and when would you see that my walls protect the dead,
I've wondered if you ever held a gun to your head but your visions of seconds after paralyzed the trigger,
Have you seen it all? Do you know it all? Is this it all?
Do your shadows hide your empty eyes?
Does the music in your head repeat the words "What else"?
How many undone thoughts and broken limbs?
Are you sorry you never came back when your body stays?
That your feet refuse to move from a place that isn't yours anymore,
That you never got back your soul that went with its own winds,
The ineluctable pause when people realize it's a game not a life,
The parenthesis that cage your anger but leave a new line for the inevitable despair,
The slow breathing of an unexcitable, uninspired person,
A dead one.