My stars are dreary
When my stars raise the alarm
I am strung under the tree
My knees beside my ego
And I see how christ must of...
But there the blood wakes from the sinew
And I cannot but tongue
I am thirst-sequestered
Can I brood?
Whiskey where are you?
I speak to apparitions in front of me
They haunt my steps
And yet, I see them for how they really are
She spoke with swords
And I answered in withered petals
Wrapped in between my brittle fingers
They grasp the ages
While I cling to a cherry tree
In the middle of serene gathering
Branches as insidious as snarls
But a single blossom
Gives me a quiet heart
So I trample over the burly-bramble shores
I stepped over
And I cannot even see this mirror
It brings me to submission
And I cringe
At this white wall
My torturer with steel-clad whips
He spoke as swans full in bloom
But his soul creaked wickedness
May I dream a dream of supreme calm?
Or is it reduced to sublimity?
It was a touch
But I think I was sleeping in a slumber
Cherub, you speak like car in my ears
And I cannot mark the spot
And My stars are dreary and bleed overflowing
