there's a body floating up, integrity in hopeless love. death consumes an empty past, an empty lust alone at last. His clothes have been cut up, dignity was not enough, bitter till the very last, an empty lust for time to pass. So are these bloodshot eyes looking up through blurry skies to skies that open up, raining down such senseless blood? Is this action wise? Looking upward for advice to skies that open up, raining down such senseless blood.