A little too familiar

The sun weeps into its melancholy sorrow while
an astronomer guides the ocean upon the heavens.
Houses flicker, evidence towards those who wish
to pry on *REM desires. Faces pass by, humans
quicken in their departure. But I roam beneath the
non sultry air while the blackbirds sing their
songs of adieu, they bide me farewell in their
sweetest French. I'm an acquaintance with the
writings on the wall, mingling with its message
until my dreams are broken down. My particles crumple
into dust when they speak of their endurance
with vandalism. In this motionless wake, take my
remains into the beautiful equinox. Serenade me in the
radiate heat and bearable nights. Then my pluses will
flow into my veins, and my blood no longer complains to the
steady rhyme of my heart trying to capture the sound
of descending waves. Instead my soul lingers among shops
of vacant glass, and the dust collects itself into
deserted alleys of used ash. How long have I been covered
in gray? Perfection never left its best regards,
and pressure leaves spaces inside my bones.
My parent's disappointment have morphed into
dim street lights.
Yesterday's problems commenced into rain. Society's
cold shoulder leaves my existence behind in cinder.
But before I can stage my exit, I have to be
willing to end with "*non curo" evaporating from my lungs.

*REM: Rapid Eye Movement, form of sleep, dreaming mostly occurs.

*Non curo:(Latin), I don't care.