The voltage only matters when the grid grinds down
to shatter me,
colliding dreams then batter down the walls made
out of paper hats, worn by my hundred different heads and
left behind in unslept on beds, where more dreams start to
gather in a riot of assembly and the lengthening of language licks
the tongues which flick the switches,the needles point to danger,
there's an overload just waiting to be tripped up in the system,
when the smoke has finished drifting and the light takes on a new face,the only thing that I see is
another needle racing round the dial.