North Shore - Ticonderoga

As sure as the world breeds monsters

Kindness grows just as wide

Or so I read and hung upon it

My praise like southern Spanish mosses

Pride had held along its branches

So I turn my back and it feels wrong

I sleep with the furnace, it’s a dry heat

Like the desert, like my head feels

When you’re not staring with ruin

Each in your clearest mind

Both with your heads bowed

Eyes growing certain, eyes getting stubborn

Words less crafted, all of that which is said

Is honest but too often mentioned

As far as I could see you would be further

I only saw your quickness, invisible face like a fuzz

and like an orange

I guess I could run faster