Old Magic

Perfect tense, picturesque Likeness of a still life And it looks right if you squint a bit Phosphenetic fantasy Secret rite, parlor trick Nostalgia turned sacrament Then practiced to paralysis Why don't I feel anything? Vows I kept under the skin Promises broken and took on the chin lines I've drawn into the sand Hoping I could find old magic again Watersheds, on the rise I don't think we'll ever find it Flowing in the same place twice Matching with an even tide Shallow breaths, foreign sky Trapped among the satellites Gasp from coma, vital signs How long was I out this time? Vows I carved into the skin Promises stripped of all sentiment Lines I pushed over the edge Swearing I would find old magic again Red shifting, new worlds overhead Parallax till the light rests within Nothing is ever again But there's something like old magic ahead"