The bed has become warlike
With a spear, a bloodstain, and an eye that roams,
An eye that circles like a searchlight
Looking for the next morsel to invite

The bed is lonely in its creepy veins!
The bed is lonely in its carapace of hardened sensitives
All the blood is too near the surface
The nerves have lost most of their power to conduct

Transmissions, but they’re still just nerves
Even though they’ve learned to imitate armor
Like a butterfly
Might learn to imitate a fortress

Like a hole in the ground
Might learn to imitate a mouth with teeth
But it’s still just a vacant, still just a flutter, still just a
Little thought engorged with bloody feelings

Monumental, like Napolean’s shame
Ready to leap
With its blue veins like lakes of wounded.
Countries have fallen back to sleep, forgetting they were won