So much so

It's so uncomly of me
So much so
These feel like strangers lips
And strangers fingertips
Where muffins mold
And historical imprints tell
The cyclic curse
Of nail bitten biding
Soul coughing
Straggling to see-through
For some (un)godly meaning
Sought in the forgotten
And elapsed
Sought in faces
That tell stories
Of dirt
Where the branches begin
So much so
That inevitably rises
And mental drifts
Memorize scripts
And chalk up
Because to of
Until
The saddle breaks
If it may
Like a loose shoulder
Strap
Perfecting
The unmade