Redemption Suite (predilection, prediction, preclusion) (1998)

The fickle flame flickers, and I smile at the knowledge

That we cry at the same time, it’s just 

The faces that are different.

I’m so tired past the smack of my life

I won’t sleep tonight;

and the image of you burns the back of my eyes,

though I yearn for ice.

So I flirt with the memories, tender illusions

of a honey past,

but I need some brand new ones that don’t have you in them,

and I need them fast.

There’s a beckoning candle in the ebony night

and I’m warmed by it;

for the dungdevilled darkness can never enshroud it

with vile velvet.

In dull destitution and sullen seclusion, I lie

with my sweat,

spinning my hapless way round, round and round, 

round this empty secret.