03 February 2016

#3 - My Bed: Tracey Emin, 1998

I’m built for darkness, built for silent hours –
for battered thoughts and fevered windowpanes
that rattle through the gloom like Marley’s chains,
and bind my brain with harsh, necrotic flowers.
In dreams, I rap on Walter’s hollow towers:
Tell them I came! No audience yet deigns
to carve a dusky notice – what remains
is floating hazard tape and midnight showers.
No light illumes these pools crepuscular
No light or license have I now to drive
No light can bend these rules, so muscular
No light will urge this creaking frame to strive.

I’m built for darkness, built for silent night.
Do not disturb me. Please-oh-please no light.


this image probably copyright somebody much richer than me.

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