What is it coming to, when a village
can't have useless buildings, for how
long has it been tense and did she pillage
his time and attention, up until now.

It has passed the third beginning, close
to it's final end. Things he does not
decide himself go wrong, and a lot
goes wrong, the less he really knows

the better cause it hurts, every letter
every word in every sentence, makes
its way straight through his center, let her
be, let it all flow and pass instead of cutting

it out or tearing it loose, it's all decided, awakes
from a different dream, he starts shutting.

Nameless is the land I walk upon,
despite the flags mounted in wind
and the bloodstains on every front door.

This body is borrowed from the stars,
both a million years old and barely new,
despite the gathering of age in my face.

All money is spent in vacant assumption;
as if these inventions of value do anything
but strip all items of their worth.

Dreaded is the will I place in travelling,
knowing intrinsically about arbitrary birth:
that if I was not born on land, I would simply drown.

I have paid for the sounds of my guitar,
but I lose ownership in their effortless travel
through the air - left to sound through the aeons.

This house is nothing but Earth upon Earth.
Watch as the weeds emancipate through the wall;
it is the people who have forgotten their place.

These old friends are not mine, but obsessions.
Memories of idealised time that I cling to,
as toys are swept up and sold in parts.

Passing are these clothes upon my back,
despite the fashion of my walk
and your letters in my old blazer pocket.

Rationed is my life upon this planet.
All that I meet will fall away,
and all that I take, is returned.

’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.