too late to pray

I cannot holler that loud anymore

I cannot hold on

I cannot see through the gauzy guise of your gaze

I cannot fall through speed at first light

I am not singing much anymore

Forward thinking back to a time that ticks before clocks

& doing made-up things

like harvesting moonlight

I cannot fail to freely fall all over everything

I cannot overcome my own ways

I am spilling out my big wide open spaces

I am ferreting out a care

I am draining sap & socking it to things

I am shooting all the ladders from the sky

Bailing out this shipwrecked thingamajig with tin cups and rusted dreams

& this man-o’-war is peaceful underneath

& hail won’t stop pelting the hale

& the world is just another thing to trip upon

& etcetera just won’t cut it anymore

Passengers ejected like sling-shot toy soldiers

Parallel lines drawn in together and sweeping towards each other ever so closer than close just so they can never touch

Tarnished thoughts

Reflections

Moods

Dippers that are either small or big

The water is hot

Get in

I cannot grub for food

I cannot forest

I cannot fetch

Strictly bush-league sadness cresting in all those

Amateur hours of minor purpose

Saddled and hampered with fairytale songs

Rascal puffs and other fancy stuff

Things like this or things like that

Done with paper

I cannot go

So leave me be

I cannot leave

So just go away

the rain falls hard on the streets