The cracks and I are friends today. Today the slumping walls make civil conversation when the sunlight’s slate and sibilance through window-glass routines. And don’t I think it curious, the speech of broken mirrors made acquaintance in the scores we keep recording hour by hour, and hope by hope we seem so sure the cuts will cease to bleed?
Well mark one off for me, old friend, and don’t you blink a furrowed eye, for the cracks and I been talking, and it’s all but figured out. Today the burden mounts to better friendship than the otherwise, so take the prize and run, while I and fractures lose the count.