what late forgotten night
to emptiness has given
and now november morning
will be taken asunder
the shovel stained with dirt in the hours of belonging
dug into the undiscovered
of a life, a pest, a plague

falling back into the arms
no, never
admitting to a life alone
no
there are sparks inside
outside looking back
no
the lie never stopped

cling to the wave, it cried
and onward to the night
expecting not and nothing in the presence of a lie
the deeper that it dug
the more now had to go
surrender was a fact and the room was decorated
no, no, no
the lie never stopped

-what late forgotten night
to emptiness has given

the stranger, may they come
in ignorance's disguise

so in the dark walking, to leave the last of times

knee-deep in desperation, to fill the gap behind-

boldly tread the night forever
november thoughts are right, oh never
taken from the fall
no
frightened by the key, but the trail behind the house
felt compelling and new
the lie never stopped
found at loss for words
now words aren't enough

someone told
a vacancy was open
someone laughed
the silence here was broken
dug up
to make room
the room which you furnished and graced
there is no vacancy
the least can fill the fountain
the most will flood the mold

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