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Three bells, four bells, five bells sound,
though pinioned to the ground
I drift rudderless on sable sea.
Darker than midnight
lonely hours before dawn
self-immolating fool
who fuels own tortured plight.

In anguished fear I lay awake,
can’t make the voices hush
trying to quell my shakes
though we share a bed
still, you’re not around;
my compass is lost not found.
Too many voices in my head.

Slumber is disturbed,
there is no tranquil sea,
gentle peal of bells
is peeling flesh clean off of me.
Your breath sonorous,
sound of waves against the sand,
I wish you could engulf me
carry me back to who I am.

Our two bodies touch
flesh to flesh and skin to skin,
you let me come inside
but I can’t get within.
Rhythm of the dance,
slap of butcher, stench of meat,
couples’ oldest solace
against madness can’t compete.

Palest crack of dawn,
time of rise and shine
and start of new day.
My shell’s still lying here
but all hope’s drifted away.
“Wake up sleepy Jean,
oh, what can it mean?”
Another day, another masquerade
of empty automaton routine.

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