If I Keep On Going
Tending Until Full Season, Will It Release
A Spell, A Crooked Scar Of Lightning,
A Slightly Poisonous Kiss,
And Awaken The Vivid Maiden From Her
Voyeuristic Crypt,
Because I-‘ve Cast The Dice So Many Times,
And Tumbled Down The Stairs,
I-‘ve Procured The Better Half Of The Wishing
Bone,
And I-‘ve Lined Up Army Men In Honor Of
Her,
But Is It More Likely That I-‘ve Run Out Of
Important Letters,
Vowels Dripped Until The Sheets Are Wet
Spotted,
Coins Of Wishing Cluttering Up The Well,
Echoing Without Recall,
Undoubtedly I-‘ve Said So Much, I-‘ve
Run Against Myself Sleeping,
Drooling On My Sleeve,
While She Nimbly Takes His Hand And Sails
Out Across The Hall:
I-‘ve Said So Much Before I Understood
I Shouldn-‘t Say Anything At All