For the past five midnights
Here I've been sitting with a feather in my hair
Trying to sort out the rice from the waste
Essentially, I should give credit for lighting up
How fortunate to bleed and satiate words
Sometimes I'm afraid of having a woman I don't recognize
Perhaps I only showcase what I do not truth-say
I'm so terrified of not learning the right interpreting
So I cling to some quiver and burst that hopes
-These words are plain if not sickening
I feel no smile play for the feelings today
I wish that light would travel across without my focus
And so I could watch and realize the mind
But today I am eaten by the worms
Yet I think I'll look to gladdening
Maybe it is not the day to sour and throw stones
Today is the anomaly of my gathering and sense.