In Logic's Absence

Let the blood fall
from heart to heart,
daggers in hand
we’ll smile hard

because heaven
in absence of hell
is only half as sweet
and no reward.

Hold my hand
in cheerful disgust
and with the other
grasp the past

for the past is alive
(like a child, stillborn)
so long as the time present
has not yet passed.

Together, friend
let’s open our arms
not to embrace
but instead to fly

and we will fall
regretfully apart
eyes closed and head first
into the sky.