The things you never asked for are the things you can’t seem to shake
When you were a cold and dead thing
You’d have died again for a taste of prescience
And now you are almost always real
And it hurts just to breathe
It hurts just to laugh sometimes
You know that every small joy
Comes at a price
That flowers are just a thing made for dying
And sweetness grows acrid after a time
And you long to be so cold again
To close your eyes and wish it all away
It used to be that easy
Once upon a time
(detritus)(poetica)(myth)(opinion)(divination)