in the entire existence you've been
there's been something you've cleaned
and where you're wanting a renewed dream
of what it is you want yourself to see
but you just won't open your eyes.
there's some dust still covering it all
and you're still waiting to fall
from how far it is you've called
down the line and up the hall
for them to know you were coming.
and now it's been said
there's nothing left in your head
but the simplicity of your dread
from the beating in your bed
that you'd watched outside of yourself.