Tapping and tisking in the corner

Slowly cooking in the softness

To have glued my hand in place

Slap my body into true definition

A fire turns inside my guts

And my face screws up in delight...

The violation of your body

The pieces they fall into the holes

Flakes of skin in my mouth

Petals trodden into the carpet

Like, the ever-rotating sky

This sentiment carries no weight...

To have felt the depths of life

And the drowning shallows of death

The storm of the half-sleep

The half-sleeping storm

Out of the blackness of incompletion

Into the politics of inconsequence