the outside world is eldritch,
inside the crib is meanwhile...
meanwhile, inside the crib
I'm hellbent on using the
downtime to drift
through the ceiling.

pulling teeth out of the maw
of an almost perfect night,
I'm getting lost in
talking about my allergies.

ceiling still solid.

birds singing on wires
and treelimbs;
the house is burnt to embers.

we never learn,
we won't remember.

smoke shades sky still sadder
than any of us though.

measured worth
in bones littered across
every bit of this rock.

birds singing.

far from home,
far from conscious,
a fall from grace
isn't as far from
greatness as
one would
think.

progress.
unsung,
fade to black;
fin.

is it though?
I've been renting hopes
like the rest of you.
centrifugal force;
I'm minimum effort
in your pivotal war.
miss me with the *******.
hit the mug with the honey,
[full clip]
that wool slips and let's the light in,
[that isn't funny]
im ******* trying here.

smiling,
you were constellations
I had never glimpsed before.
I'm shivering at your door
like its nothing
because it's nothing.
I'm just lucky as ****
to even be here.
trust me.
it's "keep clear" mostly
if you haven't noticed
already.
not usually the one
at parties at all,
let alone the one
throwing confetti.

throws confetti.

watch me as I burn
this candle I've been
balancing on my nose
all night.

call it finesse.

ive been left in the rain,
my "separate" is praying
for rain and a good harvest.

darkness creeps under your
your bedroom door,
reaching for you,
reaching for youth.

I lost that last life.
just saying.

the locus of expanded
war or any armistice...

what that actually means
is something I'll probably
walk into like traffic
in the future,
at some point.

I think,
the way your voice
bounces around
your car is one
of God's hiding places.

[perspective]