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Was there always so little to the truth Will I always be enslaved by the blink of an eye by the batting of a lash by the welling of tears? One time On a trip to the other side of town I met a man, a sad man, who told me “Girla, we all lack substance, Don’t try and run away from the chains.” And I believed him The emptiness was so, so dire And I was tormented by that truth of fire “Will I burn for eternity, love?” I asked. “No, only for 346 hours.” Will this sadness never end? This addicting inclination for intoxication From your breath From those scraps of paper Or the iridescent glitter in the wind? Jeffery tells me that it will end soon This burning and turning of my heart How? How? Tell me, Jeffery, how can I float in the wind When this heavy weight of chains Sends me crashing back down?