Period Piece

Failed every period

Did baroque badly

Afraid of blood

Dream was too lonely

I choose keeping it together

In these IKEA white walls

Of my post-war Nordic silence

But only desire is real

I must find some kind of art form

Where I can call my tongue back from the underground

(Back from the underground)

Back from the underground

There are multitudes

There are multitudes

In the doctor's office my speculum pulls me open

Spacing the space

Accidental sci-fi

Regulating my aperture, vagine savant

Some people find it painful

But all I feel is connected

All I feel is connected

There must be some kind of art form

Where I can call my blood

There are multitudes

There are multitudes

There are multitudes

Don't be afraid

It's only blood