you wouldn't let an animal die in the hot street in pain and agony

It’s the dawn of subversion for me everyday.

How can I fight the tide this hour?

What’s the right answer?

I’d like to re-define it.

It gets to be so hard.

It gets to be an open wound.

I suffer from a loss of blood

and a light head.

But the spell is drawn with fine buzzing crystal lines and

somewhere among the dizziness

I find it –

I pull the black from the gray

And I find it –

My insides, my floating guts, 

painted bright red

Alive with now.

It gets to be so hard, I know,

and I start to sweat after a while,

crawling through the thicket of viscera.

But I get to find it,

hallowing that hot prize,

and I'm keeping some kind of record.

(background voices talking are saying, "you know they're dying. i know they're dying. everybody knows they're dying. people start to get weird.")