Just more space
To take up, for the
Makeup to fade,
When the water
Goes away, when
Those tears are done
Rolling, when the bar closes,
When the drunken mess ends,
When the reality apprehends you,
When death seems a likely option,
When anger fades away,
For man has one escape before
He dies, but maybe he won’t
Try to much longer, shall God
Strive with us forever? Shall it
Be done with us because we
Are just busy, and just products
Of culture, just productive people,
Just builders! Just a sand castle,
Then she walks in,
Then with just a simple dress,
Then with just a simple undress
In the head, seems viable,
Seems vital, seems corruptible,
Yet I shall not name it that way,
Woe to me for not knowing my
Own shame, or sin, or trouble,
Or evil or the open tomb I speak
And leave in—for all have fallen
And I am desperately fallen,
Desperately wicked,
Busy lives full of noise,
Addiction to comfort,
Addiction to clutter,
Addiction to trying to
Put pain in another time
And place