A wicked glow arrives from numberless time

And the stars seem closer than you do

The space without is overloaded

With the ghosts of little things

Leave your teeth, your ill feeling

It’s July and you’ve decided

To meet the crows and cast the ashes

Impossible, a missing spider

I hear the echoes of their voice

Just empty memories

Been minus days and clothed in waves of lost

Stuck in mud kicking and clawing

Stationary, situationary

Since you sliced my ears in two

Leave your teeth in between