When you look upon night and her barbs, does she still you, does she fill you mouth with cinders and with dust? Like a conflagrant melody, she tears through my limbs and presses that cold barrel into the red axis of my sorrow. Wouldn't you love to touch her, to bend your finger and let her pour flame into my skull and coat me in ceaseless black, so that I know nothing and no one.

I am scattered unto darkness, bent under the weight of shadow. Don't get behind me, Satan, I'd rather have you where I can see you, bastard swathed in tar and pain.

I fled into nothing last night, and we crouched upon the lip of the stars with needles in our eyes. I was right: the cops came. They beat me and broke my legs and left like cobwebs into the murk. Hail now to the blind cripple bleeding into the sand, splayed out like a child without eyes. Hold my broken head, tell me it doesn't hurt. Tell me lies, oh tell me more lies, so I can breathe so sweet and so free. We are such fools.