About a daily routine, when one wakes up,
a light flickers
and we know so quickly what hasnt been done yet.

The sanded sheets, feckled
Life like theatre.
what appointment is
made in our head where we all fall.

The calling crows on branches past,
the low lags
The crack in the shell of the crab,
o woe
the morsels white and shredded fall forth,
im just questioning,
and wondering what or where I need to be
in future time,
o woe
I think that right now some things just seem silly,
I feel that some things just
seem redundant  
O woe
I’m to be alone for how long
This is the song of death,
the weary sagging eyes have bled
I’ve dripped from the sinew Slow dredges of cough
O woe
The bird in flight, who’s grip on on the reddened stick and bouncing brush waving hands of shining leaves like flickering lamp

I’ve had nothing but beer to drink
I’ve had nothing but smoke to sip
As it barrels from my mouth