Quite simply put the scalpel ran through, the flesh removed,to reveal a sad collection of Feathers, black feathers...killing the places That he had once been...everything disappears under the mask of days and the sun is unforgiving, no relief, no pity, no mercy, and we dream of statues and we dream that they would come to life. To never be alone again like the man spends most of his life, either alone in life or alone in death, in a narrow hallway with the ceiling collapsing at a rate that no one has time to stop and think, and no the only direction is forward, if you turn around you get impaled by your indecisiveness and no one shows up to your funeral. When all is said and done and the bagpipes play as your body is lowered and seeing as you died alone and live alone your soul has nowhere to go, and your stuck buried alive screaming at the mourners where tragic faces to hear you but you end up trapped in the black box of your life, screaming until your vocal cords burst and bleed, and you turn to look at your body and you open your chest where your beating heart used to be and it's gone...they took it home still beating in a paper bag, and nothing and no one cares...it just sits on the shelf for eternity, and you look at your veins and you can still smell the warm air of summer, the way that this made you feel... I just wanted to let you know I'm not leaving here tonight
