ATLAS

Brief smile under sullen eyes,

Oh, to know, what makes us happy.

Dead weight in a broken pile,

Have the heart the hands are clasping.

Sick wound covet your admire,

Oh, to need the want of something

Bent breeze on exhausted fire,

Oh, to know, to know.

Sow the rope, the rope it works

All the hope, the hope it hurts

Earth, the scope, the pain it’s worth

Fight it hurts, to not is worse.

Oh to know what makes us happy.

Damn it all to habit, The shake of a fist

Atlas of the attic, the weight of a kiss.

I think I’ll never let it go

Answers tripping down the aisle,

Haunt, the halls, for ears to meet and

Brush cheeks of addicted smiles

Greet the calls they aim to reach and

Oh the youth, the youthful hurt

Earth, the sun, the scratch of dirt

Such, to come, the seek and learn

Love, and run, and then return

To never match the gravity of this.

Someday Ima have it

The moment to miss

Maia making habits

With the flick of a wrist

Everybody wants it,

But this isn’t it.

Someday Ima have it

The moment to miss.

All of it and

Everything all at once.