Echoes of Sage

I dozed to sleep in
the smell of distant sage
soaked with my own saliva
sleepy and troubled
my eyes do not close

the throttling sound of
a descending jet fills my room
I'll battle it with bird songs in the morning
for now I will delay dreaming
just a little more

graze my eyelids,
oh imperfect wanton
oh promiscuous wanderlust
wonder lust(ing)

cool and calculating, I have a growing fever
the world is newer, yet duller
and you are a bit too cryptic, my dear
almost afraid I wouldn't get the call
only to find you've ascended
but who am I to beg
"don't ascend, angel boy"
you'd laugh and still take your wings

And I woke up feeling a little bit homeless
a little bit shaken, a little displaced
the morning grace was unsuccessful
my key fit in the lock
but when my hand turned it there was an outcry
all through my body
like a shiver of wind

fear is ninety-five percent inaction
well, I don't know if I could have done more
No longer fear deep in my shoes
but I've got a limited amount of time
before my world changes
so grab a gun and get your rations
I'm already tired, maybe the adrenaline will kick in
God knows, there isn't just one thing
calling me back to sleep
but the echoes of sage
permeate me.