I'm just passing through the eyes.
Of those who never knew I was alive.
The passion, unveils the truth.
Holding the love that got me through, this night.
The world is the canvas, you are the muse.
The past that has passed now must conclude.
Martyred in flesh, in heart we live on.
Your youth spent troubled is already gone.

You don't see me
You see through my layers
Of plastic sheets,
My void, my empty.
The place where blood
Would pulse and beat
Where our souls would meet,
Now only loneliness convulses
And hatred seethes
Bubbling from these pores
I'm melting, I'm melting!
Here in this horrible void,
Gravity contorts and
I feel heavy and weightless,
Pulled and pushed
Until I'm shapeless.
I carry graveless bones
To no destination,
To no home.
I'm nowhere
And
No one.
Alone
Alone
Alone.

-SLuR

Orion's shoulder is dimmer now,
And I await a cosmic funeral;
For a beauty that is born of death,
And is every breath a miracle-
Delights me.

And Nature's diadem-
That I swear my allegiance to,
Thus makes me wonder

How in myriad flavors, comes beauty;
Like the sight of your love from afar,
The warmth of falling tears, the twinkle,
Or the death of a glorious star-
That once boldly shone;
But as a graveless corpse now rests

In the void, alone.

Butterfly ash,
forgoteen on the petal,
of an orange chirping afternoon,
stain spot,
of coffee,
or lipstick,
trailing too a violin shop,
with tiny finger prints,
left on the shop window,
a moths wisdom,
fluttering by my wool ear,
it listens too unsolved symphonies,
or graveless Mozart,
and leaves at 2 a.m.,
out my window,
and when i wake,
the moth is back,
standing on 6a.m.,
there is nothing to say,
so it stays.

Seagulls are voices of
lost souls to the tides.

Fishing nets are mothers
veils hanging in the mists.

Masts, are crosses, where
marks the graveless dead.

Messages in bottles, have
yet to be read.

Accept the first option displayed by the godless black screenless moniter,
honest laughter contains the graveless monster ageless in our hearts whether programmed to or not,
The glowing door appears in low self-esteemed corridors guarded and ignored from the lawless oasis of subconscious statements, eating the fated to grow families graced under skeleton arches of martyrs disregarded, stand united with hand clasps tightened under flags of saturns dying breath in cycles, designs set in circular sequwence depicting the reforms sought after every disaster after the codex of shattered beliefs was writ to be promoted by the gullible innocents lovably prone to systems set in comforting tones, one day we'll wash away wills of peace weakened citizens willingly stagnant but that's a given object of fascination to be replaced like the shackles of fate yet claim them as absent, happily trading their lackluster talents as hostage informants abhorred with the bargain struck between state and the poor