Dipping my toes into my own grave,
only a slave to myself and my own ways.
But I can't seem to care enough, only
in hindsight, back when the morning's
would claim my bleary eyes...
with the cherries long crushed behind.
A smoke on the steps of a church,
and I think I'm closer to God just because it hurts.
Another lie, gone up as another burns;
come tomorrow, still poor in soul, still waiting for the nurse.
Lost in my head, looking for the long hallway high,
but the cherry steps are all that's left in mind.