11 minutes remaining

oh how well i hide

between the wind and the tide

clockwork inside my skull

keeps moving my parts

but some godless women

know how to crush a heart

it's familiar to me, so i flip the page

twisting for days in your crysalis, your flower


the librarians must be crazy

to go about all day with no sun

and save people time

by the way they stack books


they must know the pencil

and the blank page

and the cold concrete

of numbers

they must know it like home

i would trade my songs

for a moment of clarity

to know anything like that

to know i'm home