sleep will not yet come
& the air is thick
with memories of all my
wrongdoings

an argument left without
pursuit

confrontation is key
but I lose those
**** tiny metal things
all the time
& I'm not really sure what
my point is
'cause in truth I'm quite terrified
to ever speak
at all

the world passes
we all age
our children are babes
& I still cannot say
a thing
to save my life

the autumn wind rises
in its full, achy
swing

I wipe my nose on
my jacket



& sometimes remember
to sing