At the violet hour What should I resent? (As I) Die on empty A feeling crept by My sullen, sterile face Looks thee falling Beneath the tumbling waves What shall I do?
What shall I ever do? Go south Down to my words
My wounds Would it still feed fire?
This noise -polluted amber Stares into my gone hours hours that mean years ...Mean life Are you the heartburn-bitter one?
Could you pour my wounds on to them Could you heal this exhausted well A kaleidoscope of clean horizons The awful rain glommed into my fall What shall I do, what shall I ever do?
No winter walk No search for... A nebular packing cloud
A lost somewhere Implored me "Please... cease to exist"