Away from hills and away from mills,
Comes a child with no two eyes.
With its tiny hands blue and small mouth bled,
"There really can be no hope," they said.

It cries out loud, pulling at its rags
Carrying naught but stones and bones.
Throwing them with vigour (aiming at none!),
With its two eye sockets blind and dull.

But no people are there.

Naught but ghosts from antique towns
Resonating through the echoes of sand and crowns,
Shouting and laughing
Feeling not the stones,
Pretend to fall dead
As they chirp, chant, and dance.

~

As the memories distort,
A presence emanates from dust of broken mauls
Burying the ghosts in golden holes:
On beds of hard, cold, and mouldy bones
Whilst bestowing the child with eyes of ghost desert rose.

Her eyes were made of stars,
And yours, a black hole.
Whenever she looks at you
She sees her own death.

There's still an empty space
          where there should be a heart
From all the words you used,
                 hoping to tear me apart
There's still a giant ****
           in the back of my spine
From the knife you stabbed
        while looking in my eyes
There's still all these holes
                      in my chest
From the shotgun trigger pulling
              when you left

i. the black hole

stars
they too fell
beautifully warped
frighteningly dark

nothing matters
time ceases

it's empty
there's only gravity
(and you)

you're trapped.

ii.the event horizon

point of no return

destruction-mode: activated

every inch
every ounce
torn apart

b                                            y            ­                                  i
                      t      ­                                         b
         i                         b                                                                ­            t

you're gone.

iii. the singularity*

beyond
another galaxy awaits
now
go forth

weightless
fearless*

you're infinite.

I creep toward the burrows at night
Trying to ****** a glimpse of light
That sparkled through the creepy, wooden fragments.

I bent to half to hide myself
tryig to fit in within those holes
so I could escape the solace
that has long burried me
in the land of lost and forgotten.

I kept hoping over cracks only to fall hopelessly into holes. I continued to skip over bumps, only to be tripped by the mountains.