Just waiting to die.
Wishing to dream.
Being a stream going down, so deep.
Some nights in my body are secret plants growing.
And dying.

And I am watching.
The dead creatures lying.
Their spirits shoot up for the love that awaits.
Speed of light.
I know.

So I’m waiting for the end of noises.
I scream over them.
My head breaks inside.
Again but it’s already broken.
It will never heal.
I’m over it.
My heart just wants me to walk through the painting and dance again, love again.