The Dauntless Fumble

This is a song for you, my little riot Spinning too close to the event horizon Their names remain on the tip of your tongue but Their souls seep from your pores And if it wasn't for Your fragile sense of time, by now you'd be hummingbird You're right to combat the clean slice of words They mean everything But nothing is as nothing as the squiggles and lines they use To define you You fiddle with your spider fingers Balance liquid pencil 'til you can taste the maybes Your wicked breath holds holy scripts Under stones stacked in your stomach thick Can you lift them on your own Did you confuse momentum for objective truth Honey, sell them your blues Bleed nourish 'til you hear them coo Because nothing is as nothing as the you, the I, we hide behind The illusion of separation Of top of bottom, of heaven of hell You're a vine, you're a shell You're a soul-less soul In a lake of sticky sun flakes This is a song for you my little porcupine On paper you think you fall behind But shine a light on the Y-axis Vertically you're virtually uncontested The truth is a lie, the dauntless fumble of dark and light You vacuum the view, then let the moon envelope you Because nothing is as nothing as the ground beneath your thinning wings You're a seeker, you're a boxer You're bound for hunger, you gulp up the thunder You lovable lover, you soul-less soul In a lake of sticky sun flakes