There’s a pocket of flesh beneath your eyes
Where you bury the fossils of your feist
Acorns of amber and coal
You tried to soak your skull in torpedoes of rain
In hopes your fear would fasten to your black beret
I’m thankful for these moments, even if they’re meaningless
There’s a mountain of flesh between your thighs
I would climb to the crest but the sun singed my eyes
Some heights are just monuments to our finitude
If you’re a solipsist, well then, what am I?
Don’t bother baring your soul if your manners are awry
The universe has rules and we follow them
But keep an eye on your cat cause it’s vanishing
You’ve picked the pit of a well just to meditate
If this all seems surreal, that’s probably because it is
There’s a place in the woods we once both went
Where the sun was shut out and the trees were bent
You were empty, and I saw, so was I