The Hollowed Out Chest Of A Dead Horse

I've seen you sitting in your bed, in your brown gown of

dead flowers. And inside your room, in its corners where

spiders crawl, and a sour dream centipede slips under

your mattress until its time. Oh, oh, gimme that back. I

want my back, back. Oh, your beauty. Let it not, let it

not. Let it fucking not. Lie down now if you please,

darling, so I can do our world a service. Dream, dream,

and dream.