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1999-06-02* Z380 {Warship}

Damn this lucky life, this paper knife,
this wound too small to find,
too stoned to mind, too raw to work ...

Into your system,
you don't listen when I crave forgiveness.
Calming darkness,
I'm not heartless but my motive's missing.
Sparks are lightless,
I'm not flightless, but my wings are rusted.
Please believe me,
faint and musty are the

smells of summer rain,
this tyrant slain and petty
maimed and mauled and
crawling bare,
and soaring scared
and thawing fast
the heart at last ...
is thrown around me.

Now windows black, this night is strange and cracked.
The doors will swing back wide again one day.

Damn these wasted words, this insulating illness burns
through fire and tears and waters weird,
uncertain in this curtained dream ...
This burden gleaming, breathing by
our necks in smoking wrecks we hide,
in tides we climb, too fierce to take
in baited judgement, they will wait.

Time is tasteless,
and I'm grateful for this
gracious burden,
come and laden me my wishful maiden,
lonely worship,
please return it and stand down your warship.
I'll enforce it if you'll
just condone it. Seems we've thrown it out
for wishful thinkers.

The warmth will come again someday, somehow.
The heat will rise and render us empowered.
I've been waiting, I've been breaking up inside
I've been listening and I haven't heard a sound,
I got blisters and I don't recall the flame.
Once she kissed me and I shivered from the shame.
Once she kissed me and I shuddered from the fame.