"And the blue haze, wiped my gaze

And spoke to me- as I sought
anarchy.

-

I knew that what it said, would just be numbers in my head

And what really shook, is the authoritative hold it took.

And commanded me my head to lay

On straw and satin silk...

-

Tea: garden aroma: to me, I did not stir.

At this moment I found restraint in dreary eyes.

-

A couple more spokesmen- look!

Shadow figures multitude of twelve.

The hours of the clock direct heaven light-

And birth of dying hell.

...shadowy figures-

(Balance scythes on two hands scale.)

-

The dark ones command me, and speak in ill-

(My frame is weak- and inevitably yields)

To dusk harvest hooks, that bind me to my bed.

(And in my room, I rest- commanded- as dead.)

-

A blue haze spoke,

And washed my fears away,

The light forms- a script.

Authoritative motions- by skeletal death- grips.

Open hands-

Black cloaks-

Cut just above the wrists."