in time, the problems that have
needlessly begun to worry all over you
can be dismissed in the freedom of
other social circles you never really cared for
revealed in these ill-connected words
rolling out of my mouth like dice well-tossed
empty brain barely even collecting the ears up
causing thoughts to crash together like waves
thundering around the walls of my cave-mind
during the night when a few questions
erode some willpower, taking persistence to a new level
volumes of writings that adorn the floor
old notebooks, syllables from a previous life
told by the red years to hang around a bit longer
in case a fire comes cruising in the door
only you make me feel a million feet tall
not worthless like everything else does,
sometimes it is ice, sometimes it is glass