Slow trundle
Eyes bound to forever, sunrise collected
Taken
Under sown collection
Of mirrors past, seeing from sleeping
Sleeing from sleeping the joys of the newfound wing
Pulling hearts and soiled
Wormlike drudging
In movements pictures
Heavy tenfold
Of an iron brigde
That will not burn
9 ft of solid mud
Holding and stealing
The movement of beams
Yearnings of swaying
Forgotten as once more
I crawl your surface
For loss i am guilty
For this i am sorry