Steady
Time is a wasted thought to it
Accustom to constant slow change
Lovingly repurposing the dead
Waiting for the next cycle to end
Absorbing all life and matter
Rippling ire crumbling cities
Trained by gravity

Down my throat and through my hair
Handed from my lungs to my heart to be pumped and shared
The baton is exhaled and grabbed by the wind again
Forever running the globe to continue this chain
Came close to going on a cliche tangent of each breath being borrowed time
But instead I like to underline that each breath is mine
Should I choose to accept it or decline and  turn blue
The choice is mutual for you all, the taking is up to you

Never thought I'd take it for granted
This I realize as I sit alone for a meal
My only company is the chatter of the villagers on the screen
Not so sure I crave companionship
Maybe it's just a lost of lust for time allotted
My last consensual hug can literally be measured in years
But I don't think any embrace will bring warmth to my bones
Perhaps I am meant to be alone
Be more considerate, stop wasting this planet's air
A hand in my hair wouldn't even be worth a dare
This is what I ponder for a few seconds as I eat my cold food
Just swallow it all down

Ambiguously aged
Restless protuberances
Chilled tundra flesh
Timid breaths
Inclined emotions
Cold stranger, nothing more.

I blame my woes on the grass and underlying rock
In all reality I'm responsible for my mental block
The song of the sea still pulls on my rope
Even if I cover my ears like a big dope
Still a song sweeter than any lute
Often find myself unknowingly packing up fruit
Maybe it is time I clear the sand out of my clock
Bail my boat out of hock
Rid my soul of the taint of money
Find myself in dangerous situations I find funny
Or maybe fate or ole Terra will have me stay
For reasons they can not yet convey
On the wind or sea, I'll continue to sway

Talking about it makes me feel so vain
Comparing them puts me in a bit of strain
Can't run from problems with my legs filled with pain
Can't sigh with this corruption gripping my brain
What is left to possibly gain?
I say as my ink stains the sink with my name
Just another thought that escapes down the drain
Are my days numbered or few?
With the vastness of this planet that thought is misconstrued
I squint to see light of any hue
But what brightens my life can blind me too
What is an otter to do?

My body is not yours to purloin
I want everything back
Stay your hands from my *****
Take back these panic attacks
Return my faith in the female gender
Why do I pray for a mender
I find no comfort in people, things , or tender
Your body, return it to sender
You had so many other options for ****** delight
Why do that to me on multiple nights
I never wanted this, your body , or you
The insults from others don't sink in well too
Just another few reasons to only sing to the moon of my blues