Last Night You Dreamt Of Falling

Unarmed in apocalyptic apologies,
I haven't dreamed of you in a while
and it has been nice. 

You recollect your dreams
and you hear a fearful buzz
that the world is ending anew. 

The reason is never
the same river twice
in this little artmobile called late life. 

The depths of distance
dig deeper and deport
time and energy. 

Hide behind eyes,
seek in front of youth,
none of this is the truth.