ive stabbed the sand for the last time
my hands are an untimely dry now and I
close my eyes trying to finally
be somewhere green against blue sky

i know how i miss tomorrow
the way it was already known
and far away or at home in the finger-paint attic
not a single spread mouth detail was ever forgot

off to the seashell studded wall like everybody else
sell what you know and be someone else
feel yourself spin again and forget
what was not to be forgot