I

The marks from your nails
scar my skin; dirt moved
about in a clearing, ink like blood
spread across a page, the thin
breeding lines
that are words
unheard last night
while we slept;
you on golden bridges and I,
on vast shores.
II

“You know”
has become an increasingly harder place
to escape; chasing the moon
like a vampire starting over
in a new town or staring
over my shoulder
when I write.  The seconds
before I sleep, hands tired
from cleaning the windows of glass houses
and dreaming of catching electric butterflies.
III
A light flickered across the hall,
crying an insane beat;
the night is never quiet,
it clicks and buzzes,
keeping me awake.