There is a house in my heart.
For you on whose steps there are to speak.
You say: One green breath for life,
a breath within a life without.

And yet you say:
There is darkness in this house.
Within and about. And it’s
Connected by tissues of ****
and pure ***** kept down and
puce colored gangrene too.

So, In this our palace of stations and notes,
We provoke some constant prudence, a
lack of a chamber of floats,
A muse’s seance.
Life: the liver afloat.