Somewhere being shaped
In the smear I see through windows
Can your blue light be collected
For the nights when I'm rejected
(From your mother of pearl party)
Or possibly be reflected
And your image be projected-
And escape my personal gravity?
Doubtful.
I've been gathering ideas like
Cranberries
Floating in the tear bogs
They sink,
Crashing not a moment too soon
Chipping away all scabs which
Resemble not the moon
The speed of this madness
Can chip at nothing more
The speed of this madness
No clouds can obscure
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