A Crater To Cough In

This path that we walk upon is the collection of points that the rain has drawn

The rhythm section of the storm

By the moonlight to the gateposts of the forest

In the snow light, we are bound for the portal of the pines

Grey as famine, on this path against our will

By our main sails we're bound to the tempest until the sea is still

Which compulsion with this miniature death tributize?

From behind the walls of my broken coughing tent, a formal vision

But I allude to my helpless passion for the obtuse

When will this night end?

When the lightening finally tears through the mast of our sinking ship

All the hopes of the slaves are betrayed by the grates

On this coffin of a vessel every note's another breaking wave

Revel in this vision, a formal visitation, on the night with the light from above

Famished dogs follow slowly as my own paws drag me to a dock

To the last plank where I struggle to deny myself the path that every Pisces craves

Just above the water in the middle of that man-made lake

On that pier I turn my eyes from the water like a mirror of myself in the moonlight

And I cough for every crater that I could see

On the surface of that coffin we've come to call the Moon

Now I wonder if all those judgments that you made were true

And the trapdoor of the solstice is thrown wide, wide open

Let them all sink, let them all sink through

The talking, the spinning of a web, it's all just formal ritual

The burning

The burning question: What do you deserve?

The gazing at a candle to find calm, but we all know its at the center of the storm

Oh Moon, though pluckest me out, oh Moon

I who have sat by Thebes below the wall and walked among the lowest of the dead

(To Carthage then I came)

Only the most sacred crater will suit my burial

Only the most sacred choir performs this ritual dirge

Perfectly imperfect, like a storm

By our mane dragged and bound to our grave by our mane

To the grave dragged and bound to the tomb by the scavenger's tooth