ATLAS OF JEREMIAH
Here’s looking at you, kid.
Nothing more to say.
I have lost all hope in you
and in all my friends.
I hope you start telling the truth,
start remembering a year and a half.
I want to die and this urge is easiest to forget
when you’re not renting out hotels in someone else’s name.
Just throw me to the dogs. 
It’s easier that way.
Less painful.
Quieter.
Pink moon.
You didn’t say anything as he
threw me down with a wooden board
I cant see the end of my arm in the storm yet it’s
Tenfold my reach it’s like broken glass shouting and mountain songs
When you are caught in the brush you’ve lost to your wile 
What if I dont rush to grab you dear
And the eyes in the trees
the stream on the breeze
I only see frozen places and shadows of rapture on the shore