Out of long horrors and slow recompense
I count the scars as poets with their dreams.
I lie here silent on my bed — it seems
That blood and human beings have no sense.
I look at all the world. I look at you.
I make me global, and then intimate
I am destroyed, and I am consummate;
In that same time I tasted death, I flew.
The world tastes in my mouth like ashes, tears
I drag my body day to weary day
I hide my dark obsessions far away
They lurk just under my thin skin, like fears.
When you are tired of me, of this long stare
Withdraw into yourself. It’s safer there.