Sometimes I feel like the rain is my only friend.
It draws the warring beehives into a stalemate
Easing the fervor to a place where I can meet the day
when thinking how all the trees were stripped of their color
in one night
How out-of-place everything feels
As a pantomime of something familiar
An awakening within the shards
Where my landscape has never forgotten the weapon of fire
Sometimes I feel so alone, like I am the furthest one from
shore
The deepest in the woods, the most sensitive in the green
That I wonder if I will ever depart into something else.
I wonder if it will ever feel like home
Sometimes I feel like the soul of the desert; just barren
and patient and shitty
Adrift on the dunes of my own vacant thoughts
Writhing from the pull of reality
Like some performance, that greets the world with lightness
And I feel it like a wind that never subsides
A restlessness, as if my body is a haunted house
As we speak on the ghosts of numbers, like we know them
While the sands of our souls are blowing away without import
