Writing

Sometimes words fall out of my head
They roll down my legs
And onto the bed

Sometimes I dream of words left unsaid
Of lives left unpacked
Of honeymoons felled dead

Unintentional intention
Seems the height of pretention
But why does it matter?
We're happy here

A dream filled with questions
And lack luster mentions
Of how we could change today

I lead followers to the hillside
The land 'ere my pants fried
To sing a song to the great invisible way.