under where?

I feel like a pair of pants
I think like a pair of rants
battling one another no fair
no chance for my chair, I stand
in my corner, its all I have
beside my name, which I'm pretty sure is Sam

I'm not really one to plan
though I do enjoy myself a nap
maybe a couple grams
over the weekend finding Saturn
leaving Mars to pace its patterns
making matters matter without gravity
Its all actually
floating falling fracturing
I'm just here passing
don't fail well
though I practice
failing often
rarely softly

my face
has seen some disgrace
in the stars and in the taste
of dirt and shame
the thirst is pain
the worst is gain
my first fake name was Quenton
my second was wasted
on the third

I've never tasted dessert
the moon is always turning
I burden my brain with battles
burning the dust in the attic
searching for love in the static

I'm always certain that
these are lonely words
trying to picture
a fiction in which I'm listening
to any of this