So I Let The Motherfucker Sing, You Know?

A year in the maker's and my eye,
While you and I were still two foxtails on the hill
The world was passing by in effigy.
The same eternal year,
When the lone hill reflected my thoughts,
In cris[, hopeful fractions
With every turn of every season.
I'm standing here now,
Lost for the foxtail
I still wish I was dragging around,
But the world is in turn,
Beneath, above, and among our heavy hearts.
I do indentify with the butterfly
Perched on the open petal of
The returning flower, when next year returns it.
A day without sunshine is night.
A night without sleeping is futile.
But every moment I want to sleep
I'm forced awake by that demon in me,
The one that whispers, "let it sing, let it sing."