A wicked glow arrives from numberless time
And the stars seem closer than you do
The space without is overloaded with the ghosts of little things
Leave your teeth, your ill feeling

It’s July, and you’ve decided to meet the crows and cast the ashes
Impossible, a missing spider
I hear the echoes of their voice

Just empty memories
Been minus days and clothed in waves of lost
Stuck in mud kicking and clawing

Stationary, situationary
Since you sliced my ears in two
Leave your teeth in between