Lives here, holed up in a abandon movie trailer on the edge of an endless blue sky photograph.
Peering out tiny windows. Cracked open just enough to maintain the illusion of being inhabitable.
Yet narrow enough to prevent escape of the last traces of body fluids and musky odours
Left behind like torn up emotions. Cowering behind stains in sheets and floors, ever since the door closed for good.
Neer, in these cirlces of blacken air, powdered tears, milked from joy and saddness, never fade. As old songs echo against grunge covered walls.
And so, on the brink of endlessness. Amidst the thundering torrment of clouds clanging against a transparent heaven.
Dead Space opened the door slightly, throwing four legs of lamb, wrapped in yellowing newsprint, into the blue-sky chasm.
"Let them fall where they may."
Tragically Hip -'IT'S A GOOD LIFE IF YOU DON'T WEAKEN'