Slipping somewhere cold,
My grip is forever lost.
How long is the fall?

Set on the tracks,
following a distant star
on a voyage to the beyond.

Sea after simmering sea,
spiteful morning dawn
after last remaining twilight,
we travel, veiled by the night.

I feel this ocean between us
The current has kept us apart
It won’t always be this way
We will break from its pull
We will swim together again

I would like to see
What would come to be
Of a moose and rabbit
Roaming free.

It is a rather stupid idea, you must think.
And i wholly agree
But where might the fun be,
If you cannot think freely?
I think of all, from the smallest flea
To the largest bee.
Or from the makeup of tar,
To the largest star.
It is fun to think,
That is what I decree.
But in real life,
The moose and rabbit would just flee

A note lies on a wooden desk,
Its words conveying a coward’s half baked decision.

It was once clean and blank
But this changed, as all things do.
First was ink, forming a needlessly long message.
With this, came the tears, dripping at random.
The upset scrawling accidentally rips the note...
A pen thrown down, blotting the paper and words.
And lastly, more ink, but it’s from a different well.

A browned, ******, and derelict oak door
That never should’ve been opened.