when nothing is sound,
i can depend on the sky to weep
and drunk texts making honesty
out of silent friends.

these are not the things
that keep me going
but these are the things
that cannot change

nor would i wish to move them.
such means we reach
to achieve the truth

because there’s something like clarity
in both the gray of cloud bringing rain
or the line between what’s too far
and not enough of the interior of glass bottles.

i am not saying we depend on these things
but it’s ironic that we can’t let go or grow up
without getting wet.


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