James Vincent McMorrow

December 2914

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December 2914
I still don't understand a thing
December 2914
The spaceships here are deafening
December 2914
Atmosphere is paper thin
December 2914
Phone reception's harrowing

But it's okay maybe if I'm honest
When nothing real is honest
So how could I be honest?
It's so confusing
But it's okay, maybe I'm an eagle
Like a wild and glorious eagle
But if everyone's an eagle
Then it's nothing special
And I might as well go home

And call my friends
But the phone's doing that echo thing
And when you hear it
When you hear yourself
You're so embarrassed by the sound
Of your own voice

December 2914
Wake up late
2:09 PM
The back of my neck is aching
There's a bruise there now
Must have been hit by something
I don't remember what it was
Don't remember when it happened

Anyways

Get out of bed
Walk across the room
It's cold
Forgot to put the heating on
The light that normally cuts the hall this time of day
Is nowhere to be found

So I go back
Check my phone
Says 2:13 now
Go to the window
Look outside
It's dark
Street lights are on
A crystal half light in the middle of the road
Where did the sun go?
Where did the sun go?

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