Sometimes this stomach is not full, no matter what I’ve eaten. This hollow pit wants a warmth not attained by what I can fill it with.
Meet me in the barrel of a wave, where I might find you in the moment it breaks, to crash your heart upon my rocks, laid out under moonlight blue.
25 years later and all of the ashes have been consumed, we have stayed hungry, we have grown old, have wasted our lives speaking of hope
Men, take this as a lesson, what you can do with your privilege: Don’t help those who are falling do what they can do for themselves, but support them.