God Went Out Of Me As If

I Am Out Of Practice At Living. You Are As Brave As A Motorcycle.

My Heart Is On A Budget. It Keeps Me On The Brink.

You Who Have Inhabited Me In The Deepest And Most Broken Place, Are Going, Going

The Heart, This Child Of Myself That Resides In The Flesh, This Ultimate Signature Of The Me, The Start Of My Blindness And Sleep, Builds A Death Crèche.

The Day Of Fire Is Coming, The Thrush Will Fly Ablaze Like A Little Sky Rocket.