Sunday,
I
walk near the water
Chill
air bellowing around me
As
a chill stirs up inside
This
budding exhaustion
Making
my step drag
Even
in places like this,
I
always ache for water
When
I feel this way
When
the world seems
Madder
than the average hatter
And
the only answer to anything
Is
more hate
The
distant shooting reverberates
All
these miles away
Recalling
the smoke that once
Hung
over this place
And
if I stare hard enough
I
can still see the smoldering
Of
towers that now live
Inside
my head
I
ought to be home in bed
Curled
up under a blanket
Seeking
refuge in dreams
Where
such things do not
Occur
unless I let them,
And
a backfire is just a backfire
Not
the end of the world.
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