The Falling Sky...

On the red bench
beneath the faded lights,
I still count the countless lies
grew from your twisted mind.

Under the old ground
between the yellow lines,
I smell love;
oh, the painful love.

One by one
on a moonless night,
I conclude between
the terror black and the tasteless white.

Craving and waiting
for those gracious gaze,
melting and bending
my broken skull.

Does the sky still fall
in the twilight nights?

Oh yes,
the ignorance
still penetrates your
bitter thoughts
forever long.

S