When the morning light
won't wake you +
the rising sun is gone
hidden behind incredible hills +
when the suspicious gongs of misery
on tapeloops
dart inside your brain
where will you go to express yourself
where your outlet
to worldweight + shame
this is what we made you for
although it might not seem exact:
it is a resolute fact
the determined winds that bore you +
the spiders in my shoe
are equals +
you're the sequel (to suffering)
the climax
that moment
when it
stops +
when
everyone stops
like two lovers
on a parkbench
watching pigeons in a row
these are the seeds
that we sow +
the future is
what we reap
when we break out
of heavy sleep +
the shimmering glow
that we ignored
this time
is our battlesword
