sundeath.

the sun drowns into the horizon

I watch it bleed blood-orange

greedy and gripping to the day

against the gravity of celestial porridge

and banal boundless black

the sky weighs a blanket of stones

it's bruising into rotting blues

yet there is art in the aches

awe in the golden hour views

and ataraxia in the two-past-nines

we marvel at this

beguiling beauty

of bittersweet death