...Three horns
...You
Say sumpem

The matches are gone

it's this wicked wind
carrying away
every last moment

Today's rocky outcrop
burnished at sunset
with a coppery light

I rub my chest
and stomach
calming them

warming them
between coughs
I've inhaled

I took out my edge
and carved up that
time of ours

seeing endings
everywhere
I start trippin'