ATLAS

Brief smile under sullen eyes,
Oh, to know, what makes us happy.
Dead weight in a broken pile,
Have the heart the hands are clasping.
Sick wound covet your admire,
Oh, to need the want of something
Bent breeze on exhausted fire,
Oh, to know, to know.

Sow the rope, the rope it works
All the hope, the hope it hurts
Earth, the scope, the pain it’s worth
Fight it hurts, to not is worse.

Oh to know what makes us happy.

Damn it all to habit, The shake of a fist
Atlas of the attic, the weight of a kiss.
I think I’ll never let it go

Answers tripping down the aisle,
Haunt, the halls, for ears to meet and
Brush cheeks of addicted smiles
Greet the calls they aim to reach and
Oh the youth, the youthful hurt
Earth, the sun, the scratch of dirt
Such, to come, the seek and learn
Love, and run, and then return

To never match the gravity of this.

Someday Ima have it
The moment to miss
Maia making habits
With the flick of a wrist
Everybody wants it,
But this isn’t it.
Someday Ima have it
The moment to miss.

All of it and
Everything all at once.