Old places fade hard, and no matter how long   You row upstream, the water still makes waves   That carry the rest of us away.      You are what you weep,   From your head down to the sleet.   Fell, tripped up the stairs to the place   Void in all hints of home.   Watch with your heart, run with your gut,   Ever so careful not to lose   The fragile beauties of motivation.   A whir of warning winds signal me back to birth.      Watch with your heart, run with your gut,   Ever so careful not to lose your mold.   They laughed to all the intrusive music,   They danced hard enough   To wake from a non fiction-based nap,   They killed me   When I couldn't be a source of entertainment,   Strung like a puppet to every degree of debt   In social contribution by the migraine.   Our fight keeps using a voice   That needs rekindling.   I promised wet weather to myself   From the moment I set foot into my own autopsy.   Past all the shimmer,   Beyond the urine-stenched conglomerates   Of those without a set of eyes   To make contact with.      There is but the utter of all necessaries,   Pushing ones that brimming light   Through the dregs of apartment life,   A necessity that   Leaves me short of breath in the end.   Watch with your heart, run with your gut.   Primate winds blow me back to old bloodstreams.