epilogue.

stepmother, with her head

now high, now low,

walks and weeps

as she should.

when an actor after 

good men's hearts,

she faints, demure

with soft allure.

men should look not,

should fear danger so near,

upon that quite perfect face

which no tears may stain.

i sink with fatigue to 

rough ground, observing: 

her lidded eyes nicely

closed, quivering they wait.

i predict a feast tonight, 

and on their pity she will eat,

as on her body,

again they fall.

i suppose they really 

have no mind at all.

now.

you

mustn't repeat mustn't

repeat

happiness comes

comes to happy ones

he comes

and she comes

then happiness

when her hand on him

and his in hers

repeat

you mustn't repeat

happiness

there

now

come

here.

quarter.

grab desperately

in your fingers

the last stuff you can take

before he comes

and he comes

to you the tower moves

incredibly close

incredibly tall

he meets you

your paralyzed meat

you regret

the things that fed you

but you don't think

don't think past

past the fingers

fingers, claws

a single quarter

makes you richer than all

the others watching

in nervous hiding

and you say

take me off

of this surface

and you say

we hear

you murmur screams

but to us

it's just some noise

lately.

rising over the pale orange trees,

its light peacefully kills

its companions far and far,

the sun wakes in faint

your eyes in slow pain,

your mouth so slightly ajar,

recall the last moments

when scenes gracefully crashed

into each you walked and saw

observing with some patient

speechless eyes. never shut.

(always shut.)

it rolls as you roll in bed

traveling long and stationary,

you refuse to wake and depart

from good places in your heart

when the hours had gone

the sun retired to its hill.

so you, so still,

now sighed, now slowed.

stay, now, you could

wander the crashing scenes,

whisper to the sun, now,

close, silent words.