Dividing the spare rations among us,
we've become more of a phantasm
but separate is our illusion.
nursing on words that linger
sparkling above the trees as the storm sets in.
There are giants out here where this road narrows in
and they'll be watching my pockets for a dime
fools in petty crimes
where the air is warm and they take nothing
crows fly low above the scene
twisting all the in-betweens, awaking to choke you back to sleep.
To pull, by a thread, to hold it there
until the weight sinks in
and they can't be held responsible.
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