at a certain point
theres only so much i can say
about how the sea carries my heart gently
or about how my stars don’t always align

i could talk about
how i may not feel like the boy
who fell into the well
but more like the clock who ran outta time

i sit and think
that maybe i feel
like a signed off tele at 4am
pulling you from the arms of sleep

selfish as always
unforgiving like a natural disaster
that no one could prevent or see
i run dry and forget how to put anything
delicately.