i used to be smaller outside
and i would press my forehead to the morning glass
suffer through its warmth after day long lies
watch the yellow on black fly by and
defend
nothing

i used to let all the stirring stream down like vinegar
and promise to record it all in some secret chamber
so that when she like me would bare the hatred of these places
maybe it would feel more like transcending and less like shredding

and i find my bus window on couches
and hand over my eyes to any other place
but a promise to alleviate the stirring that fills me dissipates
i hope no one would transcend that state
i am awake everywhere when (you and i)

commence.

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