the sections of glass
are romancing my brain
underground speech keeps
me laughing again at
the hair on the trees
as the canvases melt
the fits of traps and
the different stories told

i realize i’m tired from
the endless talking
this is the day that
could spare me the trouble
we’re hopeless and now
we’re bottomed out
whether or not it matters
doesn’t matter

stones and rocks for
the purpose of stepping
the audience grieves
while the actor is crying
the table is shaky but
it holds all the trophies
making my way through
the long cold empty hall