When I drive over the over pass
I look for the best place to swerve all the happiness away
I have laid out my map on the dashboard
Over the X marks the spot is the house I left.
I take the time to count my considerations
Running out of appendages to tally
A waste of flanges and other false devices
Listening requires perspective and eye contact.
Why do apprehensions feel better than what I am dreading
When I get to the closed door I will beg for bolted locks
A camera lens inverts all the captured little ones
Oh fall down the hill of what childishness that was
Ashes are the leftovers fuel to begin anew
We can use them as fodder to start this fire
Let’s burn the remainders.
