Is it true that a cage has four walls?
mine seems to stand with many more,
like a maze which a sweet breeze
sometimes dances through.

Swaying petals guide me through darkness,
down a hall and down another,
towards light seeping,
through a hole in the tough exterior.

As they slink through I crouch to peer at the light,
but am blinded, dazzled,
instinct overrides and I need to leave,
but I am unsure if the light is golden from heaven or the fires of hell.

Her life is my nightmare,
tears pouring from heaven for her,

she, I see is cold and tired and scared,
in the mornings she is chained to her bed,

the snow infecting her womb,
now, old, futile and meaningless,

and yet when I reach out to touch her,
I feel a cold screen,

if I could only wake her,
requiem for a dream.

Held by snow air
I kiss my knees
and thank them for their strength
for not buckling
or mocking my naked body
which lies among chalk
running from my skin.

Beyond the haze you entice,
draw me near as you peek around corners,
soft and still.

Your absence and blemishes,
make your absences,
make my heart yearn,
illusive and mysterious,
can I come closer?

What a fantasy,
to think of you balanced between my hips,
she understands,
their pain.

Thats why she is there,
glowing effeminately,
and while you're not looking,
she's gone.

Oh  I am fortunes fool,
for the first jersey wasn't right,
what first was so comfy,
kept me awake at night.

Since then was Summer,
with some jersey-less days,
too hot, too bulky,
I'll justify in all kinds of ways.

But Winter's chill has returned,
oh I am fortunes fool, defeat,
I've never met a jersey,
that smelled so sweet.