quadrantids

you wake up early & the dawn tells
you what the neutrinos mean

and with a sickening crunch
your tarnished shade climbs to the underground,
the creationists' thinktank of pianosong & sorrow

where the lifeblood is a barricade
where the lethargy tastes fine & becomes addictive
where the children have cosmic dreams instead of memory
where you're with me like you were supposed to be

and all the collective setting suns
can't bring darkness upon the light you give me