Faintly luminous, the eyes shut like a blast door.
I can interlock my fingers now, before I explode.
Five hundred circles appear when I close my eyes.
If I move my finger across the sky you might see.
Nostalgia ensues like a program set to autorun.
Birds grace the sunlit sky, but abandon the night.
We cannot avoid the inevitable any longer I’m afraid.
Dead bodies must be planted with in the earth.
Only then, will dreams be born anew.
We just have to find a way to sleep…
[Transmission cuts off]
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