Smoke floats out of the window,
And follows the beam of the sun.
Still in bed, unmoved,
A stone image.
Underneath a force
That could've moved mountains.
Atop, a corpse lies.
Shattered bones,
And hummingbirds hovering in midair,
Chipping it ever so slowly.
Under blankets of rotten flesh,
Blood boils,
And red bubbles vanish into the distance.
The sun tries to reach,
Yet it lacks the physicality.
It fails,
And keep failing.
Keeps smothering the smoke.
Breathing life into windows.
Rain starts falling,
A rhythmic change.
Mountains begin to build up,
Cutting through my chin.
O my friend, and dancing lover,
O my smoke and my sun,
O the weight upon my shoulders,
Bending down against my spine.
O the deserts I have traveled,
And the space I am bound within.
Keep striking down with mercy,
With fury and with pain.
Keep the hollow bones near lightning,
Keep the blood near the bone.
Keep floating as smoke does,
Out of windows,
And into light.