There is a place between life and death
A place where you can bathe in nebulas and saturate your skin in the dust of the stars.
Where colors consume you.
And angels play medicinal harps.
Rainbow flares and flashs kiss your  eyes.
Sound is felt within every part of your consciousness.
So open your eyes as wide as you can so you can see the universe as it was ment to be.

Sneaky strategist waiting for the pouncing , ***** sloth singing to zeus's
rhyming

Light neighing the beatings , flashs blaming the rain's brow rising ,

snails playing to the silver morning , while birds loving their secret lovlings

Raining claims the one drying , asking what is the large Darkness flying

Drops slowing , my feet wobbling , eyes opening , seven ones smiling

Blood dripping , blades retracting , mind begining , words aren't forming

Fights are stopping , clarity overtaking , regret homecoming , tears falling

Home going , welcoming is maybe not waiting ...

Is it over?
Been waiting for this day.
In the red, deep night I was sitting
Once in a creek of silk. Virgins were Diving in it.

Will I be attending?
I don't belong to anyone cause I
Belong to everyone.
You a member?
You were taking pictures back then, Down by the creek.

Maybe this connects us.
Since you brought a good moment
To the future.
The only reason for this poem
Is God's Mercy.

Therefore I'm akin to a great-grandson.
Whose great-grandfather was confined
In a camp during the war.
There, sunbeams consisted of
The desire for freedom. And guards were yelling in nights of flashs.

So I believe: Something connects us.
If I'd go that far to claim we would
Belong together?