We were padlocked and crazy once; before
it all ended and it trended
and we gasped for air.
The world extended and we all pretended
it fine with cold wine
but we gasped for beer.
Coins chimed on rails from hands, alien, and
you rehearse, before the hearse,
this is all okay.
Spat yelps, when it helps, in the dusk
of stands, needing calloused hands, and
all we do is fall.
Rough keys play a rhyme from afar to the
the beep while you sleep
and all that’s left is shame.