Can’t sustain this breathing, it weighs on my chest, these lungs are filled with water from the tide. And I watch them go by. Can’t define a purpose, though hands set adrift, in eyelids, cobwebs forming, realize through the vapor some strange trembling gift in sleep,
I dream of houses in the sky.
And I watch them go by. Sometimes I’m pulled away from my own misery, your hands cover me, eyes drift slowly, sleep the summer chill in sheets of linen, hush the static sound of time dispersing.
:) be 70 and get older than everyone else