That thing beneath you skin is smelling

It is night already. 

A clime when the thick cloak 

Of the big belly sky pour on us 

To feel it's weight when we close our eyes 

We hear the frogs from the dark grave 

Where mortals turn immortal 

When their bones do not rust. 

We see them coming 

With very dark eyes and sharp nails 

Holding our eyelids from rising 

They cuddles us to sleep 

To the land beyond the eyes and mind 

Where the breeze hisses with each other 

And the night birds raid messages in dreams 

We are not carcasses 

For we know when the night speaks to us. 

We masters the image of cruelty we see when we wake up