notes in eighths

the trill of the crow’s song
reaches the inseams of the ground
up from below
something crawls out
you mean to call on the illusions
but the void has their reasons
the trill upends a little door
letting way something that grew

send the signal with the sighs
heaving lungs can quit on sight
by the by
the tarot screamed your name
why yes, i’ve been sleeping with the dead
the signal in sighs woke me up
the heaviness of your lungs
has given you enough to worry about

hey lover playing in my dreams
you see the red, the blood stained seas?
the blood stained sands, these blood stained grounds
i’ve been bathing in all my deaths
the crows keep trilling, singing my elegy
hey lover, isn’t all of this sublime?
i grip the grapnel
i roll around in my night

the void has their reasons
here is one: it’s lonely
because everything and anything will fill
but no need to fill, turn away
i fled and ended up in a massacre
because i was bored
because the crows needed a reason for a song
because i’m cannibalizing and rebirthing myself