burning holes in rocks
and mounds of grief so deep
they collapse upon themselves recursively
sell me that old t-shirt for cheap
and sweep clean the rags and corridors
the threads are torn
so sew me the worn out attitudes
you left behind ages ago
in old streets paved
with firecrackers and toad stools
you show me the moon
i wish to see it through your eyes
and drink in the nectar
that soothes the heart’s worry
anxiety is a target
stark against the blackness
bleak as an owl in the daylight
infinite wisdom resides in smiling
songs seem silly
in the light of yesterday's tragedies
yet still we sing
to quell the fear and misery
of nothingness and embarrassment
the lack of syntax is discouraging
yet i feel ill equipped
to handle the inevitable decline
that may occur from judging it