Like a stolen stutter on a cold mountains peak,
This is the moment in which to reach for something
Inside the spear of eternity that reeks of
Complications, that whispers in the ear between
Or rather so beneath the road of melody,
That tends to speak to the rage on your exposed seams,
That never allows you to take your mind off of
Death, makes breath feel foreign and strange inside your chest,
But you continue to count and measure the off
Beats because you’re afraid to forget how your heart
Sounds beating against its own internal struggle.
You know your heart by heart, so let it scream your name.