A marketplace

The life goes on in wildfires, goes on
In the wire angels
In the airstrikes
In a person aligning their voice with a lead singer
And finding there a soul they never knew they were longing for

Yes, I hear that in your voice
I hear that moment you felt you were alone no more
If only my fingers were not freezing
I'd make a better picture
I would at least in an impaired way use my deadly stillness

That's it, the stillness emanating throughout all the vivid things that we sing
My parents taught me a myth about the pill that cures death
I've been unstoppable, inconsolable ever since

You're probably wondering what's up with me when you're not reliving your peaks
Well that's the thing
I'm too mortal for any kind of commitment
I guess that makes me a freak
At least I feel like a philosophy major
Reading some obsolete shit on my third drink

Some subtle sadness to the right
An explicit lament to the left of me
My own voice buried deep within
Able-bodied, finite
Okay with the human destiny
With a suspiciously aching chest
On the Christmas Eve
Or something about this

The end, fini