Betting Threats

Dead night
Dead morning
All I see are empty threats

Bright moon
Bright sun
All I keep making are bets

– Things are only short and to the point now a days. Or so it seems.

Confined Spaces

I look for you in places where only certain parts of the sun have touched

I find you in spaces that even the moon hasn’t been able to light

I lose you in cities which are unknown to man and beast

I only have myself and nature and maybe that’s okay