your hand is grey your ear is lame

having hoisted my sail while i wait here for a number
I was just waiting on a notation but I suppose this will do,thank you.
a heavy heart with a glass of crisp silky memories
so I journey in this wind to the chateau this full
brown and grey season here they come
my moon mountains grace told me I had a interesting disposition.
the bitter berries winter scocred. nauseated
once more.
by noon and enverated by a classical tune
i wait i wait and mostly here i pretend to smoke the crisp air
winter somike
thick like a snow cloud
its dawn. your sick. sick to death
sick of dusk.

once apoun a teenange time
my traveling heart met up with my cautious feet
and we became idle
once a-poun an apron
i was forced to serve you
chicken noodle soop
for the terrible sad selfish terrible persons soul.
you were terrible.

you call at twelve then you call
2 years later at two
I return your voicemail at half past six
I return your voice
your voice