please don't go too far.

please don't go too far. i am still here, still falling short. sometimes words are not life and life is not here and here is not then. sometimes then i close up my night sky and pack my limbs in. (the truth is always simple, safer here: i simply could not hear it, strung from ear to the fingertips of my mouth.) and i said falling short? that pure truth, but of my own will. i am basking so cheaply. i am fattened on chemicals, light bulbs, less than what i should.

but always rising up, if not messy (whole years step to their toes, as the perching of crows), if not the song i wanted you to know. but i do not think i could move so far out in this skull of autumns. i will... (loosened up, all the lovers and leaves, shuffling and easy as they)—still, just a noise.

i am building love, but never will it become real. those splinters show, and hiss of tape.