| printable copy of the lyrics to SEIZURES | |
| "What good is one's toil underneath the sun?"
that same indifferent sphere gave birth to the shadows where we count the days off by headlines on the morning paper |
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Light pours through the transom
as wanton hearts turn endlessly in sleepless labyrinthine memory (a passing bus shakes the whole house exposing two feet at a foot board) what awful dregs have tired so easily! what futile repetition and longing! |
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In seizures we might gain true vision of all that is absolute and senseless
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In a ceiling fan cadence
a pulsing mechanical presence our bare arms prop up dull thoughts of how one sleeps through the night with all the binging and purging, snoring awakening |
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some may never shake their demons |
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