I'm out of words for you.
I'm sinking soon,
shrouding the moon in
little dances I do
to remember.
That face and the treasure,
eating my ideas
and wishing for freedom
in the number of words I can conjure.
I open up the 
leak and seep through your eyes,
burned and disguised in
the old tattered phrases you share.
Wait and declare
that life isn't just
the jest and heft of your
weight you'd like to shed,
but instead your eyes
leave me with 
the feeling like,
there's dread all around us.
So?
Where can we go?
and what is this 
that we've been given?
Just old usage that 
isn't forgiving the noise...