falling coffin bones

We lay eachother down to remember climbing, and standing still we think to run.
We lay down and we're inexpiable on our craytons
And when we crawl up, we crawl up like Smilax, pre-emptively saving what was
from what could turn skeletal.
A necropolis, Indurative, and monochord.
So skyward we rear. Dog-clutched and clubfooted like sawhorses,
wishing for days without half-steps, days without lameness and sore joints
Wishing to be sound like nocturn,lenitive, and visionary,
Given to daydreams set in motion.