last rites...
living and loving hearts beat words for us their version of what tomorrow brings ours - has hours to prepare looking at the padded ceiling - sealed with a stamp of finality suffocating - as we wish leftover words will withstand buried - to the idea of what we were presence and energy - pages of script cannot endure rhythm of time end - from each side of your mind flattened and mute there was no say there was no swan there was no song only stare to sky which now floats black eyes - plant themselves into place far - still a story - a book end - walls from all sides
