Rare Form - Saintseneca

Shout at the succulent clouds

Who in reply wring themselves out on the house

Doubt that your lungs carry cries

Sufficient to pry weeping eyes outta these skies

I remember why

Waiting around day in day out

Swallow the keys when we’re realased

Waiting around which wasted hours are our ire?

God is where you let it be

So tell me if there are such things

Are they things such as these?

Ah so rile up the holes in your head

Let each little abyss have its sips on the infinite

Tongue kisses

When we sit still

Will we distill

Spirits you might swill?

Let me be the one rare form