Trailed by
purpose
Prosaic tones;
we slipped away,
late in the night
We passed
all those
thoughts that you stole,
described to me like
they were your own
I know I will
not ask too much;
just keep me occupied
Machines,
tired and cold,
abandon their posts,
hiding out as we approached
We walked
until
skies opened up
Screamed at a flawless
Sun while we slept
I'll tell you I
will not look so
bored when you talk in your sleep
Planes crash
Houses explode
The cars on the road swerve,
and end up straight through our backs
Slowly,
we both awoke,
exhaling smoke
Brushed off the dust,
then we moved on
Strangers
threw their
distant and dark
sinister stares,
but they just bounced off
Reason
caught us
and grabbed our throats,
dragged us around, repeating this note:
I made this up
You ask too much
Now you're preoccupied
Monday,
we stabbed a hole,
dark and alone;
mesmerized by graffiti tagged on the wall
Tuesday,
when all was calm,
we submerged our arms
and encased them in pillars of glass
