The tower walls at midnight burn
with fraught desire, the rocks beneath
are taut and wet with fiction's blood.
Someone leaps. The other turns. But who is who?
(And who are you?)

Forget what you want, but
don't forget the link that grew me,
that travels deeply,
through me in the form of every thought that I think.
The loathing and the love,
bubbling together at the
brink of my emotion.

This commotion started long before my face
was ever etched into the wall of time.

I have both your madnesses inside me.
I am in constant disagreement with myself.
But I cannot leave me.
You both cannot leave me.
Nor each other. Believe me.
I am the ring that won't slip off with soap.

The armies have broken inside me, and now
they stand poised and opposed. Now there is blood.
Now there is love standing covered in glory, and
honour lies covered in mud.

You and I, Ma, we built too close to the river.
Look at us washing our minds free of fever,
brushing off bird s___ and bad dreams forever,
and never once turning the tide.

Thank you for pains and concerns that have
made me in turn more unhappy and kind.
I am proud to remind them of you.

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