Composition

As if I knew how to orchestrate

my own death by stretching the lifeline

until it snapped due north of nowhere

all things once dear are lost beyond reach

nothing on offer beyond the pale

reasonable epiphanic truth

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deepbreathing through nightlights and darkdays

chaoscontrolling like a necromancer of the soul

the blooddrops of the hummingsong heartkeys

nothingless pervading the wavespace inbetween neutrinos

to hit the silence, the absolute braincracking silence

to vibrate the music anew

perhaps on a bluemoonday

things will get better enough

to pass the baton