lady hypnagogia,
i miss the warmth
of my body falling through
foggy air i cannot touch;
bring me back towards
the ever drifting drowse,
through all my hours
of jaded eyes

the wire crept away
from a hollow

they walked around their throats,
his face was a snarl
on the other's teeth

he would have to
control his menace;

with a blurred curtain
i collapsed in the
nearby
undead
world

i am her summer-house
six o' clock
sound of moss-dappled dance

i am woodland ways
nine o' clock
bells and mushroom smells

i can hear twilight around us
above us
and here
on the tilt of words never said

draw close to bad news
like godhood to knowledge;

we are painfully aware of impossibility
and torn to bits by strength and courage

for out of this come new feelings,
ones that it's best to keep.

i want to stand up,
to know where that wonder is
in both dimensions.

(a ballad in 5 parts)

I.
there’s so much meaning here
between floorboards and music scores
the peacefulness rots my soul to the bone
and i’m a walking gramophone
knowing i can only sing
when i’m alone
so tear my lungs to bits
and hide them there, where silence sits
out of the way of everyday drolls
because i need this space to flow
mold me;

II.
i’ve been screaming since womb’s release
and if you think i’ll ever keep the peace,
you’re wrong; i long to burn you
in between my teeth, like old strings,
i know i cannot touch you, nor
will you ever be taught to see
people like me
are meant to be, so
unfold me;

III.
god, if you’re up there, hear my gruesome prayer,
tear down the chords that strung us up tight
took away these rights, unite the sight
behind these eyes before i’m blind again,
don’t tell me that the lives of men still matter
because i am not a man,
thrice been, now never am
you see, i’m a grotesque:
undress these guts
and i’ll bleed
behold me;

IV.
its hard to believe there’s something more
once my foot’s out the door and you’re
running from prison
once you’re chopped off our heads
let the windpipes glisten
let me speak through my wheezes
if it pleases you, sir
withhold me;


V.
so here i am, alone again
the only way to hear the pen as it
strikes strikes strikes the page
breaks breaks breaks the cage
inky gore, caress these days
‘cause they’re sinking through
the languished haze
of all these old how-do-you-dos
because
you can’t
control me.