Untitled

The storms of fleeting weather 

Beneath unsteady breath 

Settling on old thoughts 

Like ever spreading fire 

Unconfined and unbounded 

Buried by black birds

A routine designed to blackout 

Waxed wings across the sky 

Waiting for the next turn 

Blaming words on bad luck 

Setting fire to slow trains 

Eating progress 

Swallowing bullshit 

Fun is never over 

Death is never near 

Nothing comes to nothing

The room is out of tune