Not for me this time,

but forgive me, my naivete–

the sky weeps each night

at the end of the day, because

such precious stories,

such failures,

such remorse.

My God.

My God.

Your appetite for this

makes me take a pause,

and wonder..

I’ve been to the moon and back.

I would not wish that

on my enemies children.

What exactly are we doing here?