I lost the sea, or poor lost me
A feeling she would notice
in coming down, from mountain bound
racked with my eyes unfocussed
Philosophy
the sense to see
nature bound be hopeless
So now instead on headaches fed
by streams of sand that witness
performing acts of spatial lack
I will of course demand this
and will not see spilt mercury
with all my dealings breakfast
unless she crows but then suppose
I win my pyric victory
and being poor lean on the door
as then for love she kissed me
