Don’t throw away my misery as if I’ve been kindly handling your manner for years
Respect it and covet it like a well worn lawn mower, hardly spewing black smoke
And dance around it with spears and face paint while chanting god-speek
Because if you, for one single moment, think the moon will set before the deed is done
Then you’re sadly mistaken, sadly believing in mystics and chimera
Barking at the moon fully loaded for bear with a hand down your trousers
While the children of the night roll around at your feet, stretching for answers
Into the pale night skies pockmark’d rivers of darkness
Don’t let me be, standing here against the cold wall of ancient growth alone and heavily breathing
Listening for forgotten sounds to ring alert, echoing in the night
A calming sensation growing up through my spine as anxious boils over into my thoughts
When the dagger begins to sink into it’s last goodbye