Headless

Sometimes,
the strongest words and their imprints on the headless,
dispersing focus, clear these pictures.
Each one has a tale to tell.

They laughed when the headless fell.
To those lifeless and
boring aged people
what never matters is the depth and the longing,
masked faces and the light in those eyes.
They chase the forever pacing objects.
Meaningless and headless clowning voices
and the murmurs of friendly vices,
the drugs and the blackened rooms
where the laws of gravity fails them.

Where the tooth is the sharpest object.
We skin the being in us, don't we?
We sing the unsung?
I have been knocked in the head,
of all the worldly things undead.
It was you.
Leave,
beside me the headless will sing
those tales and songs meaningless.