This passage will not steer you sane
Or mend the dread insomnia
Won't dull the existential pain

Or promise heaven hears you call
A comforter no just these streets
Whose long acquaintance seeing all

The butts tossed down the crooked beats
That question every soul tonight
Who takes a step and then repeats

The essence of some second sight
Of mortal blood that cleans the stain
Of what is measured wrong or right

With blue ink borrowed you remain
As white frost settles in the lane