When I try to grip the world and fight against my ego,
That’s when I come closest to loving
So I thought I’d jot this down on the back of my hand,
Thought I’d walk for a while in God’s spit,
Watch it wash away, say,
But in order to keep my words true,
I have to stop writing for a while,
And in order to live more fully,
I need to be dead for a couple days.
Yeah, I need a little bit more of you…
More from the man who calls me Hannah,
More of the days where I’d walk in God’s spit, singing.
Does he know how long Hannah waited?
I don’t mind,
When I was having an anxiety attack
Last night, when I was punching my forehead
To feel a sting, he said, Think of something
I thought about the time I rode my horse for six hours,
Got lost in a storm,
Called out to no one, held on to her mane–