The constellate
From the holes in the ceiling
And my blurred vision
Stretched out like a spring
Am I incidence?
Am I nothing?
Through the
Sea of faces we made
A faulty memory
That I live
A face of granite
Northern
The view felt violent by itself
I feel violent now
An army knife
A back pocket
Falling asleep
Carefully
Placing
I fell in
You where the granite
I was northern views
I was violent by myself
I feel so violent now
Breath in
Don't let me out