We assume like "never once and never will" (that) in tombs
We'll never be exhumed and familiar
Don't expect another night of disappointing callousness, I'm just protesting
I'm seeing constellations in a lunar atoll, divinations in fire
See me now: a mess of human flesh that's distributed evenly throughout the night
What you are, I'd never say, so keep me awake on the weekdays
Another night, another set of wrongs
Your lover's in the other room, plastered in his wake
Hands on zipper, down; showing us his face
An ode to elation: a pulsing refrain from violation straight to the grave