Nothing makes my heart
so wild as being
In possession of a potent night
Racing down the stairs
in a nude descension
Shedding and discarding my hide
But the bold strokes
crack so quickly
And it's often that I wonder why
Dripping at the slow motion
rate of surrender
Hanging to my bones as they dry
How can I want something more
than a new hell in which to fry
When I see in only
black and white
There's a sinful sort of
side of being
So contained
a bit like being lost
Stumbling through the background
like a small town loner
Quietly a whisperin' my thoughts
into my cupped hands
Folded and monk like at least
that's what I've always said
How does writing letters from
the lonely margins feel
When there is no hair on my head
Is the solitude I seek a trap
where I've been blindly led
Tell me
where then do I go instead
When atonement comes
in distant waves
I might wait until
the next to break
Choking through forgiveness
at a sunfly prompter
Staring through
the back of my face
It's a vulgar hidden part of
being tethered to the world
right now
Spending all my dollars
to remain a member
Nothing in my eyes but a scowl
Do I bother to define myself
beyond what they allow
Have I already forgotten how