Dice In Coffins

Left in this coffin shivering Remembering cotton around rusted scissors Nesting in a lemon--a moth, how strange Thunder sliced into my dream--teeth turned to dirt See all the money burning like coal in a fire, even through all this fog Feel an itch inside my finger; should open an umbrella under my skin A hand on the dock plaged with disease Lead fell from the corpse's mouth as it was her time to roll the dice