Is hard to see
Fog clouded eyesight
Pull the covers over my head
Enough is enough
As I sink lower in my opinion of myself
Compartments of myself
Vacant
Some visited
Many running fluid through
The night in thoughts
Dreams and other things less wicked
Than you touching me in tender places
Prevail the healing from this chaos of a night crash landing evident a spill of flight
Broken pieced bird sorrow in the song