Talk of politics,
and the auction begins.
Every rock has a price.
The marble will fetch more flesh.
The granite breaks below
your eyes. I limit the tears.
No time left for complaints.
I am ready for the good –bye.
Will you meet me beyond
the space, faraway in void?
No words will follow me
I am going unwritten.
No profile, no editing.
A bloom will pop up, from
below the fallen tree.