It was dark, night
Dancing across the backs of my eyelids
Starlight smoky motes
Swimming across the fields of ink

Dripping down, d o w n, d  o  w  n...
Bricks and mortar and stone and wood
Pylons of primordial pleasure
An allusion to b equated to the lewd

Phallic in the sense that it wants it to be in
Some things that is the primeval
That unstoppable existence
Neither the amorphous blob of id nor the face of yourself on the water

Waiting for the starlight
Like an insect drawn to flame
Though it will be victor in its quest
And extinguish the flame that is the face before the deep

Th hand would reach to quash the fire
And end the bondage of its master
That's when you wake up, a start
Because... you nearly dies

It holds the noose and the gun
Waits for the time to reach
To quash the is from the deep
It waits for the ink of sleep