I hide
In rooms
Cold and spacious

Sleep is a hunter
Triggered
and mendacious

Through cracks
In crevices
Here I am

Studying the arts & architecture
Of historically
Dead mayhem

Affixed and frozen
To the ceiling
Of my head

Where twisted thoughts
Grin signature
Red

I can quote
All sorts
Of useless things

But none so urgent as prayers
In escaping what
My polar opposite brings

Exiled to dusk,
Fractions of the sun
Begin to lift away,
In concealment
We shudder,
Casting our reels
Into a pond of uncertainty,
Clock hands bend
With advancing shadow,
And speak of time
Only in past tense.

I so want everything
I ever felt for you
Preserved for posterity,
Even should forever
Be far less than
We imagined.