looking up, looking in; two less grains of sand

but is there something in the sky

is there something in the sky

you've been lying to yourself for a while now

picturing the days when you'd tread across the sea and

land somewhere better on the traces of a memory

where the creases in your hands sink so deep

and the sand piles high

nearly fifty feet

above your head and the grains are like candy

gritting between your teeth

and you can't help but think

is there something in the sky

but how useless would any effort be

for you to try and break a hand free

your fractured wrist hanging on a hinge

like a butterfly's wing

skewered

some sickened, bleeding thing

and the heat whispers exhaustion to your bones

as walls solidify like the hardest stone

you're preserved forever

encased in glass

immortalized in all the days to pass

by your face

and leave nothing but fingerprints in your eyes

you could claw them out if only you tried

but you're the perfect exhibit

trying so hard to die

yet you still want to know

is there something in the sky