Blur sores that breed and crawl around on one’s chest cracks and stains in a pattern Of geometric impossibilities the ashes and the razors that tore one’s hallucinations To shreds the clatter and the clamour melliflous as the nightingales’ song Oh where have I been where have I bled Lungs filled with sulphur thrown open the doors that led to emptiness burned into The retina an image of the gossamer textiles that separated two bodies fantasies Of sleep ricochets within a parralellogram Oh where have I been where have I bled The art of contradiction Of contraction of contortion of contusion of confusion of conclusion