“While the woman sleeps and dreams of all that breaks, come into this house of many rooms”

There’s you and me
and the bats in the belfry
you think they’re blind
but they can see

“There is another language being spoken here, a tongue that emanates from white clay, fire, the oils of many skins…”

Crack of sun and the bats fly away
It’s too bad,
I wanted them to stay
but they don’t do well during the day

“The woman hears this language always, even in her sleep, because she is guilty, and because those who speak to her are never silent.”

My scars you try to understand
as you caress them with your hand
but alas,
you are merely another man

“Something in your awareness might start to take shape, something vaguely unsettling. Perhaps you shouldn’t touch anything…”

The bats did not cause the scars
nor did my broken heart
but as you try to love me,
my mind is torn apart

“But no. Somewhere the woman still sleeps – she is weeping now…come back when you’re ready.”