You were good to give us storylines, battle scars, vanity, thrills, sky 
to laugh down compliments from insurgents binding heartache.
The sparrow’s wardrobe above, beaten but he’s breathing. He’s on our land, 
his way to degrade-ultimately-destroy capital. 
Otherwise, there’s only perpetration and fortune to hide. 
After homesickness, there’s profound inebriation 
running a tab, also a little suffering moving in with your 
parents (a sunroom) because they like me... 

I just don’t worry.. your eyes breaking into immense mist clots .. hard 
to reformulate .. (It’s up in the air.)
The property goes on while.