If you look upon me,
from above or from below,
being swallowed at all ends
by a gang of thirsty serpents,
then understand that in my eye
i am shaking in a trance
and am only dancing with
my fellow dancing snakes.
HAHAHA
If you watch me
from in the darkness of my closet
which you've wandered into,
not knowing that I have left its door cracked open for you
for the curious candle light
of my small stadium to peer into,
and you unblinkingly catch me
while you're caught in the act
of pouring my body
into a cup
crafted from a piece
of my frozen soul
which I have extracted
from the contents
of the cup itself,
drinking and gargling and giggling while joyfully singing
of the sorrow that the light has while it has to watch,
with nowhere else to go,
then know that my mind
is the light
while I crumble under the comedy
that is its glow.
AHH HAA HAA
HAA HAA HAA HAAA
We are a connection
turned in on itself.
It leaves everything that it brings.
The fornicating black hole
giving birth to itself
is nothing
but the brilliant
uselessness
of any song
that god sings.
Let us sing.
I'll be the bed of wasps.
You be the dreams
of our sex and our dances
nourished and guided by stings.