Empire Of Sun
05/11/09, 03:54 PM
Buzzing neon sign and legless hope,
A man sits still his spirit broke,
Gazing up into the blackened sky
He sighs,
The end of time has come and died.
He knows what is is to die yet his heart beats still,
Straining against his battered skin,
He feels no thrill,
Nothing makes him stir or rise,
Dead acceptance fills unseeing eyes.
The taste of dust upon his tongue;
Like sand and ash and broken bone,
Alone in his own apocalypse,
Imagining her taste upon his lips.
With open hands and palms uplifted,
He touches the air where once she drifted,
Slipping through memories
Like reels of film,
The scenes of which will slowly kill him.
A man sits still his spirit broke,
Gazing up into the blackened sky
He sighs,
The end of time has come and died.
He knows what is is to die yet his heart beats still,
Straining against his battered skin,
He feels no thrill,
Nothing makes him stir or rise,
Dead acceptance fills unseeing eyes.
The taste of dust upon his tongue;
Like sand and ash and broken bone,
Alone in his own apocalypse,
Imagining her taste upon his lips.
With open hands and palms uplifted,
He touches the air where once she drifted,
Slipping through memories
Like reels of film,
The scenes of which will slowly kill him.