Morning Star

and it wasn't me
i couldn't see it - the sparks and the explosions.
but it wasn't me,
and i couldn't sleep here.

i don't know what else to say,
what else?
it's about me and my blood,
[i cut and i wonder]
the color of my thoughts.
about me and my feed, thought and my paper.
i feel it in my head,
a slow-lichen creeping,
i see it in my mind,
the seethe of my morning.
and it wasn't me,
i thought it was outside,
but it was inside me,
the cells of my skin.

i've come back full-circle,
alone in this room,
[too many lights on]
and the mirror is unforgiving,
resistance doesn't wonder at my blade any longer.
and i don't know what
else,
i must have been wrong.
and i couldn't sleep here.