Little rolls of paper; let them fall from your hands
Smoke a cigarette now and you’re back there again
A fist is pressing down on this nuclear life
Measuring the runoff you’re hedging inside
This stirring low despair, let it arch in your neck
And though that ardor’s constant you can’t get it back
A private world’s untruth you’re scrying in the moon
That they’d forget is all you could ever see as proof