The world meets my brain in acidic red
Puffy-eyed, childlike, wrong side of the bed
Swollen feet fumble for steps that seek only
To placate the mind for each baby bird moment

My golden track winds out to the sea
But it's empty
And I'm riding the much simpler bronze one
And not making it easy
Let this be our secret
We messed up, so quick
Pile on the dirt
And don't mark my grave