I am dead. I am dying. I am dust filling space. I’m a memory long forgotten now gone without a trace.
I am dead. I am rotten. I am smoldering fire. I am ashes rising spirits pluming flame upon a pyre.
I am dead. Momentary. The person who wrote this no longer exists. Time has passed long since lingering eyes and ideas persist.
Where gun shots blaze – an explosion of feathers Daffodil petals Knife wounds fester – aurora borealis rainbow colors When explosions ring – harps pluck purity elasticity Calamitous comets ingenuity
Held within modern cinema is the same fantastic idea; except the fantasy is now computerized and super human powers are CGI’ed. “We want to be the hero,” said everyone, worldwide; although there are