The sun grew weary of seeing men squander its light — and so it shown to nothing, withdrew its warmth and life, and was astonished when we didn’t notice. See, we’d been freezing all along, all alone - altogether empty, with fingers crossed for a cataclysm, a manufactured manifestation, a spark we hoped to obtain by striking blood against bone. You’re as cold as I, yet your eyes haven’t yet sought the hate, the pitiful fire that only leaves your mind to thaw — and waken to the absurdity of the frigid sky.