Euclidean Sunrise

it's a greeting day from the morning sun as the moss grows into light

caving in the averages of time

it's a beautiful lackadaisical ethic from my barren mind

i'm running out of time

the feelings brought from the distant trumpets

separate into the pulsing summits

a mind

covered in this grime

the language brought from the distant trumpets carved into my spine

don't know where to go when they so might