The story is nameless, faceless, and veinless,
who says hello when everyone is dead.

How empty are the walls when no one showed up, again,
are these halls too commonplace to conjure or figure about.

Why does one say about the other what presence eliminates,
hello, goodbye, I love you, your matter is mine.

Take the skies, give them names,
clouds are meant to die, to dye,
universes with romance,
nothings with  everything.

I culminate into a never-ending sunrise,
I desecrate as desperate, father said.

I go, before the eyes, like I was never there
I terminate to speculate, dreaming.

You shouldn't be here.
You should've kept,
You wouldn't've.
We, aren't.