For there is to be what is left
in the debt of waking alive,
breathing forward another day young.

Exchanging language and feelings
minutes turn into hours and days
fall into nights that gain eternal power
over that routine that lost us in.

Can to find another that knows?

Making the eyes shine
like broken stones...

Forget it.
Never to become again
what remains undone.

So close it finds.
So close it seems,
and yet far, far away.

For it is getting there that lasts more
than a life can take.

Beginning at
and all mumbling being an old moppet of the soul.

Can't control.

When I love
I turn to hate,
distance to behave.

Have another cigarette sir.
What time is it?