I need the medicine. I'm in the half-death.
No one designed the protocol possessing
My shivering self, dancing naked at dawn,
Thinking, I'm no longer the happy genius
Of my home world. I need your love, need your love,
Although your love and you don't need me to be.
You're just too pure to be true, aching soul you.
The trance that binds me to you can't unwind me,
Leaves me exhausted in my moth-cocoon beads
At sunrise, a little fragrant smoke drifting
Over the sweat evaporating from me.
I was so sure I could dance myself away.
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