Is Being Zealous the Only Way Out?

Basins of deep silver reside in my basement. Perhaps the lost feelings ran to the woods and perished. The newspapers I found, five feet under was when I fucked up in college. I'm sorry I never told you. Maybe the rain-stained crossroads ruptured at the close. Laughing, only because radiators last only so long. I thought I saw a reflection of myself in you, but it was only my imagination. I guess dragging twigs out of the closet was a sign of the times. A true figure of loneliness, the librarian chalks up misfortune to microphones and smaller objects.