If the black hole targets me again, Iâm not human
and if Iâm anonymously ominous to him
itâs cause Iâm not human.
In the snake pipes underneath the drains Iâm flowing with the rains,
if I was light through your window at night I would fall on you so I could watch you change
into a magical cartwheeling radical, the kind I found under bathroom light,
and under blankets where the snake queen of snake dreams makes sounds
like fur rubbing boxes at night
If the black hole targets me again, itâs cause a star died
and if Iâm anonymously ominous to him, itâs cause I know whyâ¦
On sticky counters, every pound of hers makes a difference to me,
and in the orchards the moonlight casts shadows on her thoughts about me.
One breath of smoke goes and covers up the apples, the fruits from the tree,
The silver light makes tinfoil out of cold snow and the ice looks like mirrors from the sea
but just a shadow I beâ¦