Cravings of the quiet working into the nights to come.
Following this any further would be a silly game of a boy.
And his toy.
Flashed before, but now gone dull.
Kept the time, and grown too slow.
But why this hope?
Why this grip?
Just let go.
Just let it go.
All gone.
Moved.
Into something, sometime, new.
Chances and with depth.
Fewer teeth and more laughs.
See the past over there; it’s real and it’s better.
And near enough to almost touch is another.
But the shakes of now still do shudder.
Never dry hump a dream.
