As Prometheus runs East,
Light leaves and the Underword emerges.

it is too dark to see the wilted flowers
strewn about our lives
and in the eyes
amid the smoke and tears.

It is night and I am alone.

The weight in my eyes increases
turn turn take the stair
into the house so dark and down
(the Door chuckles as i enter)

The eyes that stare --
those big words that make us so unhappy --
the illusory pain -- ever-so-persistent:
all those that make death so appealing
are somewhere.

...But they are not here,

I breathe out smoke
and watch it fade into the Stars.