I lay still, toppled clay golem
You sleep, deep and animated
Against my joyless insomnia
(Dreaming of rabbits?) No, bone-saw
Flee, they turn and see you, now flee
Flee on short limbs, four red stalks
In my ballooning, musing ego
I put these tremors in you
This brooding traversed two skins, osmotic
Plasticine bull-demons, horned men
Stalk through blackened infirmaries
Casting voices of lost family
My violence becomes your twisted wrist
My frustration becomes your bruxing
I am fearful and so you shiver
Impossible deserts, impossible sea
Tunnel through glass dust dunes
Paint tell-tale scars across soiled skin
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