When will we get to set fire all over again? Smoke out of nothing ’til nothing turns its attention to becoming a flame
When will these utterly harrowing days take it entirely upon themselves once more to permit us something other than flailing feet dug painfully deep upon that snatched veranda – try as we might to catch all of these rather bountiful degrees of crazy aforementioned nothing which long to agonisingly wash all of the way over us?
Seems we can only ever really strap ourselves on in and await our particular kind of finally…
Gluttons for downright punishment the whole damn lot of us – snatching at nothing all over once more, craving something
Just paltry at best put plain and simply
Tell me, when will we let ourselves soar once more, can you ever so much as even know?
You remember those unbelievable sun-stroked days that let their instrumental selves pour all of the way across, over and all too reliably beneathe our dying feet?
As I say, dug far too deep altogether right about now
I feel the time has truly come where you need no longer sit with me…

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