tic doc go
the hours
in this waiting game
it renders me
forgotten,
useless
the sun
these days
should cease
the moon
these nights
should hide behind the clouds
forever
and don't even get me started
on the stars
the food tastes
spoiled
the wine's
too bitter
these smokes
thèse filthy
sticks of death
i want to crush them
into seeds
that spark new life
and i would give it to you
the hours
the moon
the sun
the stars
not dirt.
