Some glorious state after having slept,
Divine and less perpetuating, but not as easily kept,
Not as easily as it could with a bottle,
They told us it could set us blind,
But the rooftop says otherwise,
And I don't have the heart to leave this suit behind, for mother to find,
Along with these limbs that were once mine,
Mother, you know I don't care for what others see of me these days,
But had you the room, take the time to stuff me back into your womb,
That is, had I lost you, or the way you look at me with rhetoric in your eyes,
Let there be room for me to catch a smoke break, say, six feet under.