.

Not quite a harsh pain this firework of the chest,

Although the myriad of colour cannot be seen

The melody echoes throughout the silent space.

Rows upon rows of madness-in-a-box

Where void fills void during the long twilight,

Industrial and forgettable instantaneity –

Fingers upon a chalkboard and bleeding nails.

Somewhere, somewhen, an Asphodelian wails

But it does not move the heart of such a deity;

Look! there comes the rest in a queer half-flight,

Eyes aflame or stolen by the wicked Nox,

There is this eerie gash in their romantic pace

As they seek but may never truly convene;

Ruby and silver and gold weigh nothing to those who rest.

.

Sigrid – High Five