Be my shield for when they come for me.
Shade me in colours of wood and dust and grey,
And open my belly,
My belly made of clay.
A scatter of sunmites crawl on your chest,
I see them, and want them for morrow.
They might be knights united in this forest,
Vomiting the past,
Our lovely past-aches.
Stiches of orange string stitched across your smile,
When will you let me stretch them out,
And maybe cut them loose.
I want to search your eyes and pluck out your iris,
In this city where we are homely,
And forever, eternally, alone.
Smoke on my furnace forever, doll.
Patch me up quickly for your harvest.