Tip The Ivy

When the sunlight gives way for new shadows When the light turns into darkness in me Understood the changing shape of desire Its perpetual renewal of uncertainty This is what I see When you touch me I believe That I'm changing His hands on me Illuminating Bury me Bathed in the imaginary In the crevices, your name is protected In the folds and underneath what they see Only in the absence of light can I hear you As you begin to resemble something familiar to me This is what I feel When you touch me I reveal That I'm changing Been scarpering To tip the ivy On my latties An HP's lucoddy [...disobedience begins to thaw beneath them I hold the unknowing Not trying to know Loosening in my throat Outwardly they may choke me If only momentarily The corners The covers The forgotten nook Under the bed Behind the curtain Beneath the shelf Before rebirth A reconnaissance mission unknown As to whether or not they are for me Until they are heard in darkness And only there do I begin to recall...]