The lumbering slumber that unmanned me,
releasing me back into the night's wild
cry, horses terrified by barn fire featured,
dark soul stuff. Foul menagerie creatured,
lightning (natch), the husks of snuffed dreams high-piled,
and Poe's Baltimore face-down gutter sea --
Never More, on his lips, Annabel Lee.
I never felt more alone in the world,
symbiotic, osmotic exchanges
with the Lethe, the Styx, the Buddha's Ganges,
nothing works, I am and am not, soul pearled,
and my dreams are chaos and proto-free.
What are these terrors that keep me from sleep?
Premonitions from the collective deep?
