It's not the energy reeling Nor the lines in your face Nor the clouds on the ceiling Nor the clouds in space It's not the phone on the table Nor the bed in the earth Nor the bed in the stable Nor your stable words It's not the formless being Nor the cry in the air Nor the boy I'm seeing With her long black hair It's not the open weaving Nor the furnace glow Nor the blood of your bleeding As you try to let go It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning Not a rouse Not heat Not the fire lapping up the creek Not food Not to eat Not the meat of your thigh Nor your spine tattoo Nor your shimmery eye Nor the wet of the dew It's not the warm illusion Nor the crack in the plate Nor the breath of confusion Nor the starkness of slate It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning Not a rouse Not heat Not the fire lapping up the creek Not food Not to eat Not what you really wanted Nor the mess in your purse Nor the bed that is haunted With the blanket of thirst It's not the hunger revealing Nor the ricochet in the cave Nor the hand that is healing Nor the nameless grave It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning Not a rouse Not heat Not the fire lapping up the creek Not food Not to eat Not to die Not dying Not to laugh Not lying Not the vacant wilderness vying It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning
It's not the energy reeling Nor the lines in your face Nor the clouds on the ceiling Nor the clouds in space It's not the phone on the table Nor the bed in the earth Nor the bed in the stable Nor your stable words It's not the formless being Nor the cry in the air Nor the boy I'm seeing With her long black hair It's not the open weaving Nor the furnace glow Nor the blood of your bleeding As you try to let go It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning Not a rouse Not heat Not the fire lapping up the creek Not food Not to eat Not the meat of your thigh Nor your spine tattoo Nor your shimmery eye Nor the wet of the dew It's not the warm illusion Nor the crack in the plate Nor the breath of confusion Nor the starkness of slate It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning Not a rouse Not heat Not the fire lapping up the creek Not food Not to eat Not what you really wanted Nor the mess in your purse Nor the bed that is haunted With the blanket of thirst It's not the hunger revealing Nor the ricochet in the cave Nor the hand that is healing Nor the nameless grave It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning Not a rouse Not heat Not the fire lapping up the creek Not food Not to eat Not to die Not dying Not to laugh Not lying Not the vacant wilderness vying It's not the room Not beginning Not the crowd Not winning Not the planet Not spinning
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