song for the poets in troubled times

one day when everything i loved was crumbling
i read a poem about everything crumbling

i rented a country house with some of my friends
that vines had eaten into where the ancient walls were crumbling

while the world staggered toward one of its typically gruesome ends
we told funny stories to keep ourselves from crumbling

outside those broken walls the walls grew featureless and grey
and only gentle flesh and faces crumbling

inside the anxious bubble of our hipster hideaway
we held red earth between our fingers, felt it crumbling

then, joy, everything I knew and loved was crumbling
except for that poem about everything crumbling