This is a dark house, dripping.
Inch by inch from a quiet finger
Into a puddle, a bag of gloom;
Shadowed mists move over,
Their nostrils breathing the bowel
Of the night, a quite dark black.
It is warm and tolerable in the smell
Of my sleep; I embellish myself in
Night sweats, peeling my skin like
Black amnesia. I crawl into a lonely
Corner, my mouth licks the darkness;
Negligible starlight pours through a
Window like an old heavy press;
Moley-handed, I push it aside in the
Stony hole of night. Yet, its radiance
Scathes me. Diminished, I am inhabited
By tears. How my bad dreams endow me.
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