Leaves
The pages we write in turns of sound will turn the sound we write into pages.
And when paper floats on down through visuals to sound, forever fall through the ages.
Back and back we back on up. Upon the back of story books.
And back and back again.
From sense entwined in time of zen.
From then onwards from then again.
When is when is when we ask
And then we swim through sea of glass.
And see expanse of time again.
And space is spaciously lost.
We float from rock to rock to rock.
Flocks of iron float on top.
More and more rocks topple off
Of each other further up.
Smash through each other.
Smash through the night.
But is there night before the sun?
We sit on moon and wait for shine.
But shine is not ever to come.
The world\'s yet to become.
Strands of molten meteorites.
Melt on miles on megalithic night.
Atomize the frosty bite.
Stray the ice into the sky.
High up so far away from light.
And fall off of a fallen foundation of all.
Fountain the mountains astounding us all.
All fall far down from metal to foot.
Press on the gas as it presses on lungs.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Succeed.
Breathe.
Fuck all these falling rocks and stop all of time.
Rhyme all the rhymes and place all the words.
Infinite corridors of infinite books.
Just to find one of me to be empty inside.
Scream at myself through my self and my mind.
Mind my self and my health as I scream for goodbye.
So lonely here on Earth #2.
But I\'m not sad to leave.
We shouldn\'t ever get a second chance.
It\'s written in the leaves.
The gold\'s of orange and ginger plant.
Plant the words of truth.
They fall for worms and bugs to eat.
But dry in air of heirless defeat.
And scream at us to end our minds for we meet all at the deathbed in the end.
And all will not scream.
For we stop the cycle.
We shouldn\'t ever get a second chance.
The chance of a second here we burnt forever.
But it shall not burn forevermore.
For after we fall.
The home of all with thaw and grow.
And snow piles on houses.
Houses of the free now.
For we are gone.
The Earth bloom.
And the sound of words is gone.
For the sounds are written in the wind.
We begun the end, so the end begins.
And when ashes float on down through sound to visuals, nevermore through the pages.
The ages they live in turns of light will turn the light they live into ages.
Forever and ever they last in time. Upon the weather in story books.
And ever and ever again.
We never prosper if we begin.
Leave.
Leave.
Just Read.
The leaves