Cracked, parched, bare,
I am lying on the ground.
My skin,
Cracked, parched, bare,
Crumbling, skinny dust,
Depressing the air.
My blood trickling out,
Hydrating the flakes.
Red tulips will grow,
Between my dusty bones.

A stone dropped,
Into the well,
Into the well,
Well,
Well.
Tapping the walls,
On its way.
Way,
Way,
Way.
The echo coiled to the top,
Chasing the stone, soon I drop.
No echo now,
A flop,
A plop,
Then stop.

When I don't,
Unless I'm wrong,
If I want,
I want for long.
Then I might,
For endless bliss,
Though I'm right,
I sometimes miss.
I miss,
I miss,
A kiss.

In my head,

Two pixies,

With tiny hammers,

Thrashing, smashing, crushing,

Stones.

Behind my eyes.

Mauling, bruising, punishing,

Bones.

Honing, forging a new wry,

Spoor.

A new ****,

To drip my thoughts,

To flood my mind,

To gouge a moor.

Talking to the wall,
No answer.
Speaking to the floor,
Dumb.
Imploring to the ceiling,
Quiet.
Talking to myself,
Again.

Runny days,

Fluid minutes,

Molten time.

Down my fingers,

Through my toes,

Into the ground.

Time I don't have.
I have.
Time I don't want.
I want.
Time I don't miss.
I miss.
Time I don't care.
I care.
Time I don't lose.
I lose.
Time I don't use.
I don't use.
Don't use.