I am warm with my past, present, and future;
But,
I shiver
Like the arms of the butcher;
I am a drunken fool,
Intoxicated by this pool,
This pool of change,
This pool of pain,
This pool that seeps through
That muddy terrain;
I see,
I hear
It gushing by,
And yet it is a pool
Still as our night sky;
I often look through this obfuscation
That coalesces itself
With consternation;
It pulls me in
With whirlwinds,
It cuts through my flesh
With blades that sin;
And yet it is a pool,
Silent
As our bygone kin;
I drop my head yet again
Onto that very same pillowcase,
That in my mind
Is threaded with lace,
And I sleep;
Wishing,
Wishing
That I could leap;
Leap through the forests that crowd my brain
Until I am above them,
Until I catch that running train;
That mocks me every so often
In my dreams
That whisper
Into these drains attached to my head;
I fall into the pearly waters,
Glistening,
Glaring,
It bares its teeth,
Dry as a heath;
And yet it is a pool,
Crowned
By a blistered wreath