To a lover,
Are you awake?
Oh grinning, dancing darkness, come
fill me with your greatness. How it is that you slink to all corners
of neglect and give them life. Teeming, streaming blackness with
shining eyes. Oh pretty, smiling shadows, take me to where you are
made. Un-make me. Remake me. Send me to the farthest land where you
are strong and great in number. Oh knowing, growing night, lend me
your dancing shoes so that I may too run rings around the stars. Let
me rush the frost
from its bed and soothe the flighty dusk. Oh gorgeous,
growing, growling ghosts of light-time, I am yours forever and
belong most humbly to your un-light. Dreamweaver, show me your most
secret secrets. Let me run with you a while and lay waste to the dawn
and sunrise. Build me a fortress of your jet and fill my hungry eyes
with splendour. Oh grotesque glory, give me my grandeur so that I may
claim my portion of your darkness. Burn most brightly in my eyes and
let all know who it is they look upon. Oh deranged darling of mine,
let them see your name in the bow of my lips and hear your velvet
laughter in my voice. Give me such strangeness of your own. Undo me
here from the great twine of existence and pepper me into your
twilight shine. Never fear my lovely, laughing, love – I will fight
for the un-light. Oh my sweet, sick soul-mate, lend me your voice,
your dream, your pride. Give me such meaning as East and West.
Un-light, I am dying. Sick with purposelessness and such things of
dull cruelty. I must belong to you, Star-dancer. Have you no mercy,
my grinning, dancing lover? Have you no shame?
...Perhaps you feign sleep because you
fear it as I do, cunning, stunning darling of mine. How it makes us
real and shakes the sparks from our eyes. Monotony...that sinning,
spinning monster of ours. Oh magic maker of me, please, wake up and
chase routine from its neatness. Give me great terribleness, or else
consign me to the dust. Oh, how I am decaying, my dear. How I am
rotting with dullness... Fickle friend of mine, you do me wrong. Oh
wicked one, do I not have the wild, lustful life in me that hungers
you?
Wake up, woeful whisper. Wake up...
