Desperate

It didn't make sense, those things I saw
And seeing knew I'd lost track.
The world I chose. My own inhabitant
You remind me of something desperate
Some grey-lined silved canyon
Over streams running pale water, down faces
Of rock and bare stone in moonlight.

Pick up your feet child, running now
Down hillsides too fast to stop
Where we cannot see the bottom
Looming still submerged
Sucked in cheeks insignificant.

Weatherstones in my pocket, weatherstones
Happy charm to me in the morning
But before I gave morning a chance
You gave me away.

Pick your feet up child
Dawdling behind forever lax
And lapsed inward, without support,
Bent and useless and falling in on
Everything. Pick your feet up child,
Running silent today
It is cold, cold, cold today
It is cold, cold, cold.