and the colder you grow
you're likely to find that
the most reliable companion
is a sturdy sense of no-nonsense bookishness
A stern demeanor
and an underwater grave
of impractical desires cased in cement
A third eye made of Plexiglas
and a wooden soul
An inner child with no friends except its own parents (?)
Haunted by imaginary ghosts
The real kind
That real kids
Are really afraid of
For real
I just want to swim
I heard it said once
Just want to stare at the sun
and eat grease
And fuck myself
until I am one with the universe and all things
Something about fractal patterns...
and then they trailed off
I've been told it doesn't work that way
But I've been told a lot of things
I'm not sure what I believe
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