I skip silent stones on this lake
To feel my breath cold, feel my lungs ache
I wait patiently for lighted rain
To fall from your mouth and swim in the vein

My eyes vie in animation only with
Your cloud
And your spit
On my belly
Like an opal, bending and spreading

And I guess that lack of me is why I always look for you

Dour mind, aching snow
The willow tree that no longer grows
In timelessness I coalesce
As an orchestration of carbon

Moments dance before me like filigree ghosts
Ornate mirages within cigarette smoke
And their endless pantomime I find, tastes very much of you
Of that peppermint dream
I consume

And I guess, that lack of me
Is why I always look for you

Dour mind, aching snow
The willow tree that you said would grow
In parables you coalesce
As an orchestration of carbon