I have been lying
In bed, curling upon myself as a flesh cocoon
As I dig at black dirt pressed beneath crescent fingernails
Painting a sad caricature of the face of the moon
When it looks out to the sea with opulent fault lines
Cutting up its pockmarked cheeks
The frigid fingers of its truculent light
Sending rollercoasters down my spine.

Lately I’d been sinking
Imaginary teeth into imaginary stars
The sky was as wide as the eyes of a child
Stretched from ear to ear a condescending smile
“Oh, but you’re so young.”
Out on the sordid streets kids collide into cars
The last thing they hear is the music in their ears
The rolling rhythm of a funeral march.

(She) is cremated in her wedding dress
Hiding in the pews, (I) stare up at stained glass
Between her parted lips, aflame, are miniscule machetes
The cinders spelling out translucent distress
Like the needles in the threads of my dream machine
Pump-pump-pumping to the violet elixir in her veins
Desperately swimming as the tissues burn black
Inviting into this girl a congregation of worms
And I have, indeed, been falling
Asleep
In a bed no longer warm.