Mania, Madness & Migraine

Oh Daughters, I sing of rage
The crash of stars through hazel eyes
the melt of thoughts in
such fiery burn

I sing of fury,
The wail of pain through brushed moonlight
the cries of sleep when
all else drowns.

I sing of pain,
The end of innocence through cold cedar
the crush of darkness in
such a lonely night.

Oh Daughters, sing with me
of rage
of fury
of pain

Oh Daughters, sing with me!

Our song is a wretched frog
frozen slowly on a crisp October night

Our song is a mosquito full of sweet blood
engorged, then thunderless detonation

Our song is the tender wisp of willow
down raw rubicund cheek.

Oh Innocence!
Oh My Daughter, sleep.

I weep a song of anguish,
that afghan of love, left behind
when only moaning sings

I weep a song of torment,
that cold autumn walk, ahead
when futility is in season

I weep a song of woe,
the clicheed swamp of desperation, hallowed
when thought is gone.

Oh Daughters I weep with you!
Of anguish
of torment
of woe

Oh Daughters I weep with you

Our tears are a wretched stench of skunk cabbage
broken leaves on a pathless stroll

Our tears are the gurgle of fetid brown waters
lifeless and pitiable until they evaporate

Our tears are the clench of fresh mud
about our tired sore feet

Oh Innocence!
Oh my daughter, sleep.