This is a forgotten land, a forgotten place.
That has befallen us to temptation.
Everything we see is bitter-the car in the driveway,
the hungry maid. She sees what she sees.
Sometimes, we do not know where our loyalty lies,
in everything or nothing, and sometimes things are never
okay. The loneliness is in a shred of doubt.
The master is in the deceit. Everything is farther than it was.
Sometimes, we see things that are at death's door.
I wish I could be a butterfly. I wish I could be a tugboat.
Everything I wish, and nothing seems fewer. The lies are
in our deceit. Everything is beguiled. Take us not to temptation,
or fate us with what is fewer than the forgotten eye.
There are prophets. There is death. There is the life in after death,
and the next afternoon. The car gets stuck in the driveway.
I see my life going before my eyes. I feel a twinge of guilt.
Everything is less than certain. Everything is death,
or the certainty of death. These emotions lack certainty.
They are a part of the path of destruction. How you help,
and why it helps, I cannot say. What is there to say, anyway?
I feel like a dumb horse looking into a dumb horse's mouth.
Nothing is the same as it was yesterday. Everything is new.
The grief is new. I am a new man who sees the future,
and in it, the grass is brown.