Every Time I Look Inside
(fixed, at least I hope so, I’ve been a bit sleep deprived the last few days)
Every time I look inside
I find joyful emptiness.
I can’t find anything that is mine;
I find less and less…
Vigorous bells are hitchhiking
in this stranded chest.
Don’t confess, digress, leave some stories for the rest,
just build hollow forest, forever colliding nests.
Less and less, human toys pumped with analog stress.
Let it be seen—don’t be charmingly mean,
…
