The sun smokes her last cigarette
for the night
having burned all she could,
to the poor souls lingering she turns, diming the light -
the flowers in agony
beg for just a bit more
while the only sound to be heard,
is a locking of the last cold door -
it's lights out
when the sun sets
such paroxysms
nearly bring about thoughts of mortal regret -
eat gravel, grass
or dirt
eat it all,
there's nothing left to hurt -
the worms feast
inside the spinning earth
as the cosmos look on,
asking what is it all worth -
the royal curtain, soaked in blood
is torn apart...
the sun sets deep, perhaps deep enough even
to enter into each human heart -
Smoky Hoss
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lights-out-14/
