Euclidian rain dilapidated the sultry
The restful pull of Humanity
Separating the heavy stones of sin
From the face of sanity
We are what begin when
Time decides to breathe again
“Here is a scene that keeps playing in my head
It is sunburnt, the air is dead and the honeysuckle fries
As this car glides to a bleached shack.  
And I know that ****** means I can’t go back”