She lay on the edge of the bed, at the edge of this whole
night and world going wild outside. I looked at the curves
of her body, like a story unfolding. I rolled over and
sighed, felt a hair on my cheek, picked it up and found it
belongs to her. Not that long and curly.
Just an hour ago I could hear a woman outside shouting over
the phone on the street, shouting madly at her boyfriend I
guess, for not showing up or some other reason. Loss of
control, streams and screams echoing over the black empty
street of the night and my girl is way over there, lost in
sleep. Feeling strangeness as I look at her closely as she's
sleeping, dreaming and lost inside... what's going on there
inside, love? Where is it that your dream-vessel takes you
now, to what regions, to which secrets of fear and panic,
sins and redemption? I roll over and over, like a ship lost
at the edge of all the seas and all the nights again and
again. The sailors are drunk, the captain is praying in his
cabin. There are monsters about in these seas and there's a
monster about in this room, this night, lurking just outside
the porch-door, waiting for the right moment. But where are
you? You're not any closer when you're awake, not any closer
as your guards break when I'm inside.  
And when its morning, and ''time to play human for a while''
(Wyatt), I watch the skilled movements of your hands as you
fix your bra and you ask me to make some coffee while you go
wash and fix your hair.
And I'm not there. I'm the drunk sailor, I'm the praying
captain, I'm the monster and I've waited all night outside
the porch-door, and the lie is showing through the curtains,
through the smoke of my cigarette, through the sweat we
build all night and now crusted on my head.