Everyday... everywhere, I see lifeless,

soulless corpses walking down cold lonely streets,

the methamphetamine dreams distort focus, their tongues;

the serpent speaks, obsidian.

A grey funeral hearse passes by, with the scent of lotus flowers burning,

a still mourners winters sky.

Dark nebula creeping up upon my spine,

it is like breathing liquid... with deaths passion, tasting like crimson wine.

Bruised lips. A heartless kiss. And a wave goodbye.