Indian Summer Angry Son

In the stone heart of an angry son, an angry son who has done his swallowing, his memories are bitten pills, so many bitten pills that he has collected. The broken ground he now moves on, this ground so unsettled, so endlessly unsettled. On the way to the sunken earth, and still he moves on This is earth Has moved on and collected, settled to his own liking, and still he moves on A voice in the back of his head reminding him that this is stolen, that this is not his All these moments, all these precious time spent moments in gravity All this anxious waiting, all this time spent waiting. All this pain that you know, All this pain that you know, All this pain that you will ever know In waking hours, time spent in this moment though he is living, silently in moments, and forgiving relevance. It is in his heart he is holding and calling behind sadness of empty fields. it is in these moments of time well spent In these moments of gravity, this time