what late forgotten nights to emptiness has given  and now november morning will be taken asunder  the shovel stained with dirt in the hours of belonging  dug into the undiscovered of a life, a pest, a plague    falling back into the arms - no never  admitting to a life alone - no  claiming there are sparks inside - no  outside looking back - no  so the lie never stopped    cling to the wave it cried and onward to the night  expecting not and nothing in the presence of a lie  the deeper that it dug the more now had to go  surrender was a fact and the room was decoreated  - the lie never stopped  what late forgotten nights to emptiness has given    the strangers may they come in ignorance's disguise  so into the dark walking to leave the last of times  kneedeep in desperation to fill the gap behind    boldly thread the night forever  november thought are right - oh never  taken from the fall - no    frightened by the key but the trail behind the house  felt compelling and new - the lie never stopped  found at loss for words, now words aren't enough    someone told, a vacancy was open  someone laughed, the silence here was broken  dug up to make room  the room which you furnaced and graced  there is no vacancy  the least can fill the fountain  the most will flood the mold