Darkness.

I look like a wraith,
feel like the water
the baby got dumped out with.

In my time here,
nothing changes

Some planets, say, haven't even
completed one orbit
the stars don't move noticeably in our
lifetimes,

I am all hair and broken bones
Left hands and sticks and stones
Poison glands on pretty toads.

I look like a demon,
risen from some pit of sleep
you shouldn't ask things.

Leave them for the courageous
the stupid
the rennaissance men
the Errol Flynns

Some people, now, haven't even
grown into their skin
and they never will
they never did.

I could say hope is one the horizon
the horizon, that Xanadu
which can never be reached

Don't speak to me about darkness.