The last transmission.
I've burned my oldest friend.
All of these numbers are lonely.

You say,
all of this heat is smothered.
And for me to lift and never be able.
Crawl around the back and shine your light to bring again the wake.
And there is no one digging.
There are no hills for you to sever,
Every land you raise will settle.
A camouflage stain slowly in the forest.
Starting with Jung, staying quiet with few hopes of weapons.
Feel the vague spectacle.
Beyond your scope.
The sun draws mistaken.
A lie for the evening.
This is no warmer.
This is not you leaving.