Or kitchens of night
Spilling pools in pornographic railways?
Why then elastic night? Why murder on my wallpaper?
I have a new horizon, but i was spoiled
And left confused in kitchens of night.
Blindness would be a mercy,
A heart is always a curse-
Every colour is a shifting hue,
That forms the lover's gaiety,
The executioner's delight-
Cezanne's apples
Were last seen before being led to the condemned cells
Or the afternoon glint of old-style fairgrounds
Every red mocking him in his sleep,
An inch forward, led by laughing crowds
Toward the hangman's noose.
