Can't stand up so she sits down left barely awake Red in the face and hair still wet from the lake Eyes scan weakly across her friends of middle class B+ college freshmen Gone and moved away, why else would they stay? They'll all be gone too one day. But the gang was all together again and to us, it all seemed alright then How dizzy you must have been Rests head down, silent in her inhibitions Low in these thoughts leaves this high indecision What will you say next? I don't think even you could guess. And alike; my childhood friend, no words are spoken But not lost in his inhibitions- lost in deep thought Reading symbols in the bright red orange flickering mass Waiting too for this moment's pass Some people are complex in a way you can't experience Their otherness sees me not as I see them Reality fostered for each facet of self Who's life am I connecting? Who else? As she reaches into the flame and pulls out her image of VSCO posts and road trips to her family's 2nd backwoods cabin and fake Polaroids tucked neat into the back of her phone How oddly gracefully she moves Like a deer, but unable to run away from all this company and all unseeing of her own blind feral beauty Semi-boldly still, onward she is feeling No sense of fear in this action, this moment Unprepared and unremembering but present still, no less than us Back quickly from the flame and pass it off And I wonder what sleeps in the empty wooden cabin across the lake and I think about who lived there and what they did and why What was lost to leave paradise? He is still the young boy, now with half a college education Has a car, lots of friends, and a mild disposition He is looking up at the semi-clear nightly sky where they light has found its next reflector. The light that has found him that came from a star that has long since died before our parents, our country and earth, before he or I The star that in a way is still pulsing its creation Despite unrememberance in its faded constellation How humbling this astral chart can be How perfect in its unchanging pattern When they looked up long ago; the same Making stories of the glow Not shining for us, not anyone, but just so. It's the apathy I find to comfort in a place of so much consequence Stargazing with its great desolipsition I came from nothing but I have grown since now I came from nothing but one day I'm passed around Like a bottle of cinnamon whisky going from mouth to mouth Causes fist fights and words spoken loud And to nothing I may return as he gets up and into the air and spills the red vodka bottle everywhere It runs over stones and sinks into this tired ground before a new one is passed around Fire turns from novel to the centre of the night where it illuminates these faces, sunken eyes, a new girl where she is singing all the words to the only real country song she likes It all comes again to this Fire on the dark and starry canvas, the glow into abyss They start the worst played crib game this place will ever see Open eyes slow now count to 15 It all moves slow beneath the screen, as gentle as it could have been And slowly now, they retreat To their houses of rubber and plastic and steel Cusping on another day, a morning vacant of this consequence And at this end we were somewhere in between of a long-tired joke and those tourist magazines 2 stories collided, one infesting the other with its Honda Fits and birthday parties and instant vegan TV suppers And I was there too, just unpresent in this action I didn't have to choose not to belong And I wonder what looms on the grey and green mountain across the lake and i think about who lived there and what they did and why What was lost to leave paradise?

Each of these old light leaves is dirt Barely held together by tiny bone hands that used to be alive Holding hands, loose gripped At the déjà vu dream scene end of a life-long relationship These light leaves is my hair on the bathroom floor; My smaller selves down the sewer somewhere Under Berkeley, Cincinnati, or on tour Airplane rear and hotel lobby ladies' rooms beware Is these light leaves Bagged up in plastic never to decompose or fertilize When my balls are finally big enough to do it I don't want no casket, no saddle, no see-through plastic mask No casket, no saddle, no see-through plastic mask And when I finally do it I wanna do the dirt like the dead leaves do And if you do leave the earth when the earth leaves you Cold and hard as a marble table top with nothing on top There's no hip hip hop hooray Heaping heaven golden boned gateway No bright confetti hard step march ticker tape parade There's no mound of clouds to lounge on No mound of clouds to lounge on

As selfish as it sounds I need you to know I dream about the time I dream of letting you go When I sleep a shape in my reticent dreams (Broken little life) When I showed you my home You sat on my bed You told me that Life floats away (Away from my hands) Slept on the floor Couldn't take any more cus' None were as sweet as your core