Proper

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As my eyes burn from the lies of you, I properly sip my coffee, I wait, watching the heat of the Day take its toll, telling the truth you will not say despite that You see, I see, We see, the shingles cracking, the black tar melting, the ol’ roof caving in on itself and the stupid birds calling this hole home.

Stupid

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Endeavor where smallness 
Says you ought grasp
Stupidly seem to settle

Admit and tell fear
You are in fact, petrified
Let it think it won 

Reach breathlessly then, baby
Heavenward and find
Stardust-covered triumphant arms

*Original Thought Credit: Robert Browning; “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?”