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it stars with an adjustment to the rays of sun and light. a color chosen through genetic artist fingers, painting the world at an upside-down angle; reversed and reflected at a mirrors surface. a look back beyond history to find that god, too, is an artist. the iris created a false alignment of stars, as they fell to grounds that blanket our fallen hero and empty eyes. there, no trace of yesterday is found but only a ghost to find nothing at all. a coating of layered colors of millions hatched within bellies of mothers and knowledge of strength of forgotten fathers. beneath a dead light bulb lie strings of wire and visions of tomorrow, as we fix our eye to the setting of the sun, though beneath our feet rest guns and bombs.
what is not seen can be found within the hearts and memory of the naked eye. only those who suffer greatly can be reminded, that death is just inches away peering through a coat of tear into your future. it is not visible, for the truth as what they want you to believe,...is not everything. it is all but an illusion. we do not eat but drink. we do not sit but stand. we do not sleep but die. we are artist that paint the world of things we want, for comfort and memory. it is our way to see and create things of false visions and realize not that our eyes live behind closed lids. this is everything. this is all but the perfect formation of eyes.