Hello stargazer, do you hate her for leaving you so soon?
Her heaven is your accident,
your accident is god's monsoon
'cos the ones you love are exiting the room.
Did you stop looking into the night sky because the inky black
looked more like a hole and less like a home for the after-world
or are you scared to shed a guilty tear
in the eyes of the deceivers who left you here?
Your mother's not coming home tonight
and Daddy won't stop crying
and you've got no one to blame except luck and chance:
a masquerade tap-dance on a collage of broken glass.
But your pessimistic lips won't save you if hope reigns quietly
in the anti-beating heart
like a homeless artist screaming verbal graffiti inside a subway car.
It's a game of crashing ambulances into burning skyscrapers,
so crumple up the blue-lined paper;
nothing that you write will bring her back.
Hello, stargazer, are you alone?
Let's discuss these repercussions:
concussion, abduction, destruction,
your mind's interruption at every word I sing.
When you bleed transparently, do your wounds sting your swollen eyes?
When you cry, are you alone
and hiding from taxicabs that could do the same?