open blinds, lines of light
the smoke moves through them
it's summer, somewhere. Australia, i think
won't they mail me something green.

of course i can leave
i've never missed anything worth getting
but it's all deformed
someplace between the good soil and the seeds
it's just so much i want to keep from wilting

don't believe i'm not acting
don't tell me something as if i've been trying
i will live in the most frigid hemisphere

the drinks stay cold
there's a place inside to smoke
and it's a big white canvas
but is that a charred, faint shape on it?
as if i stared at something too long
and looked away?
We're only strays.
Last edited by Martyr's Prayer at Dec 15, 2014,