Human Blues

So poor moon,
With a cursed hand I rent my days,
Lost in the woods,
The curls and throats I never made.

Blackened boughs and starlight shivering,
Cobalt blues to crown my little home.

Head for shore,
Got whins to raze, got clouds to spoil.
For crow-miles I roll.
You stopped staring skywards years ago.

I stank of madness in your cities,
Sleeping foes and towers in my way.

The clamber starts -
The push and pull, the marking out with hearts in mouths,
Those precious traits you're holding fast,
You keep on holding fast.