there is a heavy stillness in the silence
that precedes the words of man
who thinks he is right

My laurels means nothing
They're tenderly held together by
cheap glue and crumble to ash
a little bit more every time I touch them
yours are made of gold and sapphire
they're sturdy and I bet if they fell
they'd hold together nicely
but they've never fallen
gravity doesn't seem to affect you the way
it does me