Erasing the storied narrative,
Baseline coherence that were normal, believable

Then that,

Waking up, hay-feverish, stuffed-up spirit
Standing far off across
Yours, just considering you

In the era or epoch of fake announcement..
That’s what I would be making — if I were to talk to you
Even a mote so that waking can go away

To keep from you forever
Nothing, seen forever.