Tuesday, March 27, 2007

the voyeur

death, a petty voyeur
outside, roaming and sniffing
the air, my perfect stranger

where do you live, little
one, when you're not chasing
my dreams, darkly

my bed doesn't welcome you
i have room enough
for my own twisty dance

and death, i thought you
were an old man, or an angel
not a young lad, blue-eyed
dandy

why would i walk with you
these hours are too dark
and my feet are bare

to go a prowling, whooping
climbing walls, maybe
make some thieving

just a fuzzy boy, or are
you an illusion, weaving
lies that i can't outrun

there is a gift for you, wrapped
in glamours, wrapped in spells
they'll keep you bound

when i sleep it's with a doubt
that waking is beyond me
slipped too far from reach

but if that's so, don't think
i mind it, don't think it fearsome
all things slip away

even death

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