Only Death Knows

By jacobtwotwo

Apparently someone wounded the sky
since there's rottened blood
spreading around
far away behind that mountain
right above the horizon's flickering lights.

Blood turns to orange fire
and the clouds don't say goodbye
they just simply disappear
dying into a darkened blue
almost blending with the mountains
finally vanishing out of night.

The moon after you fall asleep
wants you to pay attention to it
even if its in closed eyed seeings
or unconscious grogged out awakenings
that splendor of white
illuminates your mind
shrouded in black fog
and gray smoke-like trails
flowing like rivers across the heavens.

The sun after you wake up
shines brightly above
scorching the day
getting you out of bed
to the next insignificant seconds of time
that are left in your life.

Synchronicity's mysticity
beyond what human souls can touch
hangs above all of us, like a ghost
permeating throughout all earth
an energy untangible, unfathomable
hiding beneath the hearts of all men.

In a blink, in a touch
in the licking of fresh cut blood
lies the feelings of being outsouled
and the afterlife that awaits us all.

Will we become the blood in the skies?
Will we turn to dirt, and manifest as trees?
Will we become ghosts, and float above?

The answer, the truth
only death knows.

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