An Indefinite Wobble

I barely noticed
the world was an indefinite
wobble,
the infinite days
becoming months and years.
I barely noticed
the break of day,
the wind chiseling
words in my ears.
There are no secrets
in the whiff of night,
the drip drip of a liar
who’s broken from within.
There are no secrets
in a mirror,
in a look that
feeds on hungry skin.
I dreamt there were
no secrets
in the break of day, and
the world was
an indefinite wobble.