here

here's my nothing no one reads
cause no one can
when it's suppressed, my blacks and reds,
exploding in my mind like seeds,
and leaving still rage in their stead.
nothing real and nothing made,
no sound collapsed or penetrates--
just simple mischief, grins through pain, an
endless cycle of simple games.

and all the hatred I declare disappears
like puffs of air--an empty vessel's offering
once swallowed whole by loves and family
satisfied, who'll celebrate the night you die
with the sparkling tears of crocodiles
from the soulless mirth within their eyes.

last words never heard, a throbbing crowd grows
thick with rattling hearts uplifting life in fear of their own deaths--
all showy mourning gives way to 
their fingers crossed for luck or lies and everything they've left.

here's the world we smoothly run on the pain of lovers broken,
who soak in blood, become our thugs, our victims and drug suppliers--
who boldly shoulder unknown weight that they take below unspoken--
buried in a shallow grave or forgotten to the ocean.