Besedila: Unpersons. Grey Sigh In A Flower Husk. Number.

I can't see nothin'
but a sphere
and the children are all
filled with straw.
filled with chaff.

(i'm flow? er? ing with the grains)

i fear
a dagger you
struck me
coming slightly.

whispers
i lapped milk from her
the inside of her elbows
like a cat

softly struck me.

i go out staggering, after midnight
just hopin'

the dark wind whispers down dark hallways
to me
to me I fear

well, that's just my way
of sayin'
daggers.

the salt from the inside of her wrists
weeping beams
hold up the moonlight
out in the moonlight keep me staggerin'
hold me up
sdaggerin' across a long black nothing.

i fear a sphere
dagger
you