When there are weighs I don’t feel
and treasures too steel –
youth ink, I’m in what I say,
seem in to rest today?
Whistle well there are still
always lulls to fill – with my last will
you – no – eyes can’t justify meaning
so pre-tend, de-fend,
wise eyes don’t talk, they walk
along the corners of my fork
yearning to hold tools they pool
screaming loud: I am a fool.
When there are days I don’t deal
and feathers to peel
youth ink makes a mess
silly whirlds, did my best, spoke in chest.