Outer Heaven

You came over with a week of hangovers, but honestly there's not enough room on the globe.
I need a need.
I need a need.
Oh god, there's another missed call on the phone: another chance thrown down, stomped out; another job another friend.
How does it stop? For some money.
Two slices a day won't work.
We both used to live off one bag of rice in a whole month.
Anywhere you can enter is a new domain.
Anywhere you can write is a canvas.
Anywhere you can leave your things.
Anywhere you become a home.
Anywhere you can drive across.
Anywhere you become a road.
You think there's no way to read the future.
You think we're alone because you only know the past.
Not reading enough to think that hard.
Not speaking to others enough to know how to talk.
We don't hear we just walk around smiling at signs and leaving our stuff on the ground.
Stop talking.
It's distracting from action.
The people you brought here need silence
Lock yourself somewhere, but get the kids out first.
Barricade the door.
Set everything on fire.
Wait 51 days.
They'll do it for you.
You can't talk about it yet.
You can't sleep through 'til noon.
You can barely feel weight of your house keys.
You aren't well enough to walk.
You just cough instead of nod.
I keep counting your blinks as a win.
We don't give to keep our stock.
We don't see inside the dark.
We don't even get excited when we eat.
Not in the woods behind their house, not in jail if they get out.
I don't care if they don't catch me, i don't care.