I screamed at the setting sun, four stories up
“Forgive me another worthless night.”
of drunken disasters and wasted words
harsh whispers, accented syllables cut like knives.
We face our darkest secrets in dim lit basements
Will you howl at natural satellites with me,
“Forgive us these spacial arrangements.”
We change our minds and fictionalize our lives.
I resent the way I tend to casually waste my day
only to be born at night, with a loathing unmatched
Place your faith in something, something concrete
something more than wasted words and city streets.
