I never let myself be taken in.
You,
A woman with feathers have come so often lately,
Under my mind, I'm tearing apart, the dark that I should.
I'm beginning to see those sounds,
that I never thought I would hear.
Over there a door knocking,
for example with someone you hate.
Beside me,
a light bulb is revolving, wall to wall,
a reminder of the great sun, completely collapsed,
down to the sore toe of the white universe.
its chalky light, rings,
once again, a different way,
like the sound of a watch,
on your cold white wrist,
which is reaching for a particular moment...
...to reoccur...which is here...now...me and you.
