Once I had an awful dream
And it vanished (so it seemed)
But as I walk the waking world
I still feel it in me twist and curl

In my chest a rising heat
Which burns brighter each time I sleep
Waiting for an admission of defeat
And all it ever gets is steam.

Yet sometimes when my mouth won’t shut
It bursts its way out from my gut
A serpent scaled in black tar
Who lashes out to bite the scar

That I already won’t let sit
That I scrape and gnaw--
I pick and pick

I know I spoke with little words
When the world broke into thirds.