when i seperate all the pieces of me,
i am still left with so much more,
so much more than emptiness.
there are these feelings,
floating like clouds in the summer sky.
there are these mindless thoughts,
blooming poisonous venus flytraps
******* up life's liquorice.
these bones, muscles and feelings
will cease to exist  
if the meaning to their existence
is no less than died echoes.