I rest upon the varnish of your gaze

I lax, at ease, before your ways

Still, I'm battling from the trenches

One player shy of open benches

Lost beneath the Northern Star

Lacking place at met beat's heart

Too much time to lack a reason-

Too much time, still, am not increasing

Next to me, an open book

Next to see with just one look

Turn me over, flip the pages

Dusty face meets womb of ages

Two in meeting, too in place, is

Just another lost encounter-

Another time, another flounder

Sure, I'm empty,

But aren't you?

For drawing words from binding's glue?

Lack belief, and find a faith

Already dead, we, seem the wraith