Talk of politics,
and the auction begins.

Every rock has a price.
The marble will fetch more flesh.

The granite breaks below
your eyes. I limit the tears.

No time left for complaints.
I am ready for the good –bye.

Will you meet me beyond
the space, faraway in void?

No words will follow me
I am going unwritten.

No profile, no editing.
A bloom will pop up, from
below the fallen tree.