the message

cut the hourglass in half. this time i should rest my soul in heaven. because if i live to die, surviving wouldnt be so hard twice. ill come home tonight but in the morning i must leave again. i get use to these old faces, the dead walk closer to me everyday. if their souls turn to dirt before their bodies turn to dust, i might as well quit while im ahead. this connection becomes unstable, the frequency in pain. power of passion floods this garden, and ignites the flames. an explosion breaks out, as well as debris lands on top of me. ash falls from the heavens like snow flakes. a small spark lights up the sky, as i look above with my one eye to see this mans shadow hover over me. he bends over and reaches out his hand. whispers softly to me "I can do no more for I am dead, but you are still alive".