052609 - life and death and then that stuff in between

*When a dream slips off the edge of the cloud which held it
and crashes into the bottom of your heart,
why does it continue to writhe there
in that pit of despair
which light and air don't penetrate?*

Life is always the last to know about death,
and so days keep dawning on minds forever nightcast,
a painful sunshine that pours in like acid on a sleeping soul;
the clock inches towards eternity
tick-tocking on the deaf ears of those who are
already embraced in the eternal
and our streets are lined with walking talking coffin-fillers
who's cheeks are painted rose
by Life's tinted shades.

*Why do these hearts beat on that are broken?*