Worst in the Fury

Red Sun.
Empty my arms out in the canyon.
Would I be happy just to leave it all?
Could I be opened like an old fault?
I'd sell out my eyelids to get some sleep.
All along
I was an ocean made of only salt.
I resolved to keep my neck stiff,
So I could stare at the way you should.
We invent.
We insist.