The emptiness of space
crowded up against his face
It moved inside his suit

Surreal, the blackened envelope
enfolds him, gives no hope
It wriggles in his boot

Now he dreams of home and kin
Things he'll never see again
To Death, these thoughts are moot

There is just one, last labored breath
It echos in the ears of Death
He hears " I love you, " Awww, that's cute

There are nine horses in the meadow,
wildflowers and grass,
fate counts them one by one.

Empires of bees and frog dynasties disappear
as do cities of the dead. Destiny
rides them into wind and ashes.
Everything is ashes in this world and
the molten rock is filled with ceremony.

In the flat land (where flat people,
soak in skin),
three ride four horses.

Dusk still,
Sky red,
Blue shadows,
Touch flower beds,
Flickering flames,
Embers aglow,
Light up the dark,
Like the soul,

Silver clouds,
Soft and slight,
Moon bathes us,
In her light,
Stars wink,
You blush,
I smile,
Then flush,

Grass moist,
With dew,
But all I feel,
Is you,
Warm and humid,
Soft rose,
My darling’s mouth,
Beautiful to behold,

We tell ourselves stories
Of days that we are glad
Sad
Bad
Times that are hard
When with our bear hands
We scratch through rocks of insanity
Seeking out broken answers
To illuminate our puzzled existence
As the threshold into our souls
Are shut tight by the nightmares of our yesterdays
That comes to haunt our present selves
And threaten the tranquility of our tomorrows
As we dream bitter of the meadows
And the bliss waterfalls at the countryside.