Orange Grieve

I'm alone in perpetual grieve for all you took is all you need.

As it stretches in the heart, the perpetual grieve, the dark suffering that still lies beneath.

Always to be the tongue that bled from the orange sun.
No more pearl sky, no more rainbows, no more diamonds on my tongue.
The rope is too tight, life’s too short.

In the absurd of thought divided, the language was silence. Always mute. Always futile in concept. But i carry consciousness into my thoughts and all is forgotten in the depths of denial.

I'm the insomnia, the god of sleep, a device trapped in a concept of time. Our concept under the rules of the thoughts of a clock. The meaning of priorities is forever lost. As Myself. Becoming. Always. Forever. Infinity.