I am from whimpering Willows
From hidden fields and the dark moonlight
I am in the words dripping like the dew of grass
(Glistening, bright in the morning sun)
I am from the veins of the creeks
The haunted shack
Which held foaming dogs
And kindly ghosts from the past.

I am from bleached walls and late night visits, the impatient inpatient
From those crème colored walls where Horae’s heart was my only solace
I am from the scream-filled rooms and the silent nights
From six feet under to lost in the clouds
I’m from the Father of None whose heart I knew so little about
And the chimeras that danced in the nighttime to a darkly song

I’m from slashed papers written in crimson
And the soft light of dawn
From the life, my grandfather stole
to the body in her casket, cold
Under my bed lay Eros, daunting, but just, all the same
And I kept my weapon upon my desk
armed with thoughts twirling through my anxious, little head

I am from the locked doors without keys
And from false loves and false visions
The delusions of the mind and of the heart
I am from the green shining jewels of Hope
From a childhood cut too short
And an adulthood which came too fast

Born to name which was not my own
A life I would never live
From the bright white buildings
A dry throat, blackened vision, a blackened eye and a bleeding heart
In this world, I exist
And in The Separate, I used to live
But all these sleep filled nights have made me sleepless
The fuzzy grains of static fill my ears, my mouth, and my eyes