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Lights and Falling and Why
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Stuff that could be worse. As seen from her window on the city, a man stands.
He makes the spectacle to accomodate his vision quest.
He sees the shimmery lights, from the top he falls.
Falling so quickly turns the lights to lines, they streak by.
Spinning turns the lines to kaleidoscopes, they rotate.
A sheath of obsidian tears glazes over his eyes.
Terminal velocity makes his muscles flex tighter.
"Have a nice day," she mouths from the top of the highrise.
Sparsely populated pockets, twelve items or less,
Bruise his chest, and his tennis shoes land near his ears.
But he cant feel, he can only hear as a gold saxophone,
Residing in her mind, plays the melody of his eulogy.
sounds like she pushed him... have a nice day... thats sad... I like the part about the gold saxaphone... and the lights changing.. very cool. jess