From ripe to rotten, too real to live
Should I lie down or stand up
and walk around again?

My eyes finally wide open up
My eyes finally wide open shut
To find, the found, of sound
that hears the touch of my tears
and smell the taste of all we waste
could feed the others

But we smother each other with the nectar
and pucker the sour at bittersweet weather
It blows through our trees, swims through our seas
A flies through the last gas we left on this earth
It’s a long lonely journey from death to birth
Should I die again? Should I die around

the pounds of matter wheeling through space?
I know I’ll never know until I come face to face
with my own cold dead face, with my own wooden case