Wakes.

When the clouds reached they moon they seemed to anchor

like ships saying good bye one last time

over at Girl Harbor where we'd sing songs about coming home before we even left.

There's a gaze caught in waking reflection,

there's a million of me and you don't have to choose right now.

It was your gaze that made me reflect

on whether or not I should steal your face back from the moon.

So I took the latter

and climbed towards madness,

By the way,

 we must have made a mistake in the wake of it all.

By the time we wake we won't have any memories

but they'll resurface again through the day.

If we're just going in circles anyway, I'd rather find a whirlpool

and just get it over with.