I sat next you,
watching you search for God
3,000 miles in limbo
hoping you didn't find
the mumbo jumbo I did
when I really thought about dusty books.

You asked for weather updates.
Please.
So I whispered in your cemented ears,
'cause you can't see a ******* thing
but progressive buildings.
It was as grey as the inside of your eyelids, anyway.

Right when I walked in,
my face went dead pan
with your fresh decision to die.

Anyway,
I sat.
I whispered.
It was fine.

I spectated on our situation.
Your sweating breathes,
my sweating eyes.
We're natural.
We don't matter.
Emotions are natural.
They don't matter.

When the dusted books disintegrate,
and mumbo jumbo weasels from
that little pocket most have cemented shut,
we'll feel much better.
I do feel much better.

Feel freely
fall freely
observe in captivation
stay here, while there.

Purpose
has only brought stress.
Try absurdity.
Try reality.