And here I can rest my head
A green pillow with black covers
Putrid but I'm used to wallowing in smells
That would scare the pigs away

And I beguile the time by staring
at you, though I hate your words
And I try but can't seem to hear again
The music that drew me in

And days pass by yet they smell like
seconds put on repeat, red and yellow
Basking forever in that scent
Which is You