I, cave.
I, wind.
I, a name on the wind through the mouth of the cave,
Weightless,
Tasteless,
The screaming silence of wandering waste.
Blue star,
Blue mourn.
Blue asphyxia, a gray-skinned void in the cave,
Raw sun.
Open air.
Suck material wounds to harvest immaterial space.
Wind, call,
Mouth, speak,
Shout the blackest spiraling tongue of the cave,
Tasteless,
Voiceless,
Whetting the further inside voided black space.
Mourn not.
Star, hot,
Flameless burn of a ravaging cave.
Open skin,
Raw within,
The deconstructed film of pedestrian waste.
Cave,
Void.
Mouth,
Open.