Wednesday, September 23, 2026

Witchita


 

If the sun were to grow cold

When the where breaks down

Where the whens grow old

Would you still say we have now

We have today


If the stillness were to stop

When the pax passively rocks and sways

Where old selves said younger words in younger days

Would you still find me mysterious and sublime

We finally killed a world of ducks didn't we


If the times were to warp and weft from interesting to dangerously strange

When traffic tracks fluent truancy, Luna ticking time bomb

Where faces flock cropped and unmade

Would it will, would it wonder

We may be the last years of ourselves


Wandering

Watching

Waiting

Wilderness