Music:crown me king- as he dreamt, he saw the city magog
no more the sublime agonies of adulation.
it stirred beneath my sternum again last night while i slept, blind & dead to the world as a statue whose glass eyes had long since been broken from its face. stirred, not like a heart, which beats, or like love, which flutters, or like my cold comforting hate, which slowly clenches & unfurls, like a spider making a fist. stirred, writhed really, like a comma in an akward sentence, or a silent ghost inside a burning haunted house. as i imagine the locust stirs (only occasionally) during its long, secret sleep. "i come from far away," it whispered to my heart, & i knew, as i always do, that it was speaking the truth. there was the crack, the ache, of loneliness in its voice; a sound i know well, for what stirred beneath my sternum was me.