The surface can change, get brighter some days
But there's always a thing on a lower level
Untainted by the painting of the better and new

Longing and needing
It doesn't recede
And it lurks and lingers, stays on underneath,
Needing for it to be, having to be, okay to need

Idle sometimes, still never dead enough
There's something about a shadow that doesn't care about light
And there's something about a double that hasn't been met

Little bird can sing all day and be glad
Doesn't mean he isn't tethered by the response he once got
Or heard the first note of, relayed, never got

Hours can change,
Overshadow each other, a night make a spoiling morning pass,
But the click of 11:11 uncluck is like the stab of a fork in a second hand's thumb
And the shape of bad air can come back again,
Once unstrung or unformed, back, belonging again