Two lights that burn inside grown dimMy own gutters in its boredom
And one so uninspired
Sees the world as truly blank
The nothing spans farther than I could ever aspire
And so, my goal transforms
To reach the end of oblivion
It’s true, I know of no purpose
I have let go the romantic ideal of my solo plight
Through the big, big universe
It is not I versus anything
But I begging for scraps, and a warm place to rest
So befuddle me with minor preoccupations
And find me some place
To feel closer to sanctimony,
Not merely my atoms flying
Exhausted through the daily futile.
There must be a better way to
Kill time between now and forever.
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