you have known a world
in which the world is nonexistent
and so you value every bug
and every bird
and comes across your windowsill
you hold them all close
and sing them to sleep

and yet, i continue to observe
that to have lived in death for so long
makes one so hungry for life,
so that even after a hundred lifetimes
of living-
you will maul and **** and tear apart
a thousand butterflies
and a million men
to run from the silence of the void

the warmth in your eyes explodes into fire
no, you refuse to die