Horsehair and Limes

It might be very true that I’m an afterthought A ghost whose essence fades like pallid morning motes of dust that dance on rays cast through the windowsill Or subtle growls of midnight storms along the coast. yet not a day goes by of mine where I don’t think of you You are a punishing aspect within my mind I send messages in bottles where the pain has brought me to cast it out to find a different host. And if I could bring you suffering believe me You’d be an ant baking beneath my holy lens refracting sunlight surging just above the windowsill and my means would be as holy as their ends And in those last few days the chilling truth was biting For no thought you’d left unsaid could be undone I arose twice that week from Plato’s cave, you know Each time more aware that I’m my father’s son. And so by these words I am a supernova There is no escape you’ll ever find from me. I leave traces in your universe’s marrow lest you are a deeper fish than I could see And perhaps we’ll even meet before it’s over So I can tell you where I think that you should go: Right to Hell because it’s where I’ve been residing It’s the only home that we have ever known.