derailed

my sun collapsed, my black hole , suffer me. i prayed for an exit, i cried to all gods, all men and women, darkness only got more dark. the wise man snubbed: you did not make a choice, while he ate a king's feast and called it nothing. i clawed, i scrapped, i salivated (how humiliating) for a cube of sugar, nothing, nothing, nothing i sang to the darkness is mine to chew, to bite, to relish when misconfiguration was all i could do to try and make this real. you know they say belief is in the mind, i tried to reshape my lost star, my lost world, my lost me, for without a star, what i am? onlookers looked away, remained neutral, remained amused, bemused, slightly interested, not a full commit. how could i expect one? the rush for the sun, a fixed algorithm, a news derailed from a star, a crowd none the wiser. wise doesn't pay, that's all it matters for hearts wanting flesh. but never, never, never spell it out to the crowd who would then, turn on the truth: spit, claw, chew, ingest, how dare you? a story would come, a story without a heart, a story without bones, a story without fire or ice, that story would oust every foe. it's what sells, it is not laziness when a crowd already says - we've done enough. maybe they have? on and on, the onlookers poked, gave small talks, their pennies, poured yellow to a void, a void never full, what a greedy bastard! and i could not agree more, for that is how it appears to be. must be truth, when the ending is already fixed. a story. to fix here and there. the wise man brought his gold to the grave, so much gold into that nothing. sugar lights up in heat, turns to bitter nothing. a fallen angel meets the rich man from the pier: this has no value here, for here the test is fire, heat and ice, not wise words or sugar. those days, those experiences, those learnings, those memories mean nothing here. nothing? a wise man chokes. for he has done much, sacrificed much to earn his place in the sun, the sun he believed has become his right, it is mine! he screams. But nothing is the here and now, something he has done everything for to avoid death, a lack of feast - he has taken for granted it would always be there - pay a price, work harder, believe when belief suits the wind, the wind that cares not for constraints, for time, wind that has always existed, unafraid of a judgement. ... ... crash, crash, crash a boat sinks to the bottom and sirens claim the souls of sailors who thought themselves above such cheap thrills as a song. skeletons, moving past a black sun, an eternal darkness eager for light - it is not nothing. but the crowd as usual does what they do best, the remain neutral, they give their penny worth, they give something minuscule to them, then when dying embers fail to ignite, they wonder how a sun failed to give light to a world. a world eager to drink up the sun, to take the sun, to be the sun, it sure feels right, it sure feels good, it sure feels like heaven decreed it be be so. because heaven never judged acts, perception, what is openly seen, heaven waits in the shadows and sees what is done in the heart, in secret, the man who has gained everything in this world, isn't it not enough? of course not. they compare themselves to david, job, the saints, all of them dead. great. for none can now testify, fallen angels, live angels - they are in the jury room - writing their verdicts: nothing, a black sun eager to take down all. it's what you want.