i have a head full of light. i am light headed. a headlight. i live in a house full of light. a lighthouse. so much shameless desire lives inside of this light. sketching its way through the night, singing its way through the rain. bleached and beached. unreached. i have a head full of night. night light. so darkly bright. scorching the sheets white. i have a head full of stars. star light. i have a head full of snow. snow light. the white light scattered with bits of colour. the frozen bodies of birds, dot the snow. caught in mid summer song forever. i have a head full of dead birds. dead bird singing the the black of night. in the white of light.
(interlude of spring rain. warm puddles of spring rain splashing my pant legs from the traffic traveling mere inches from me at full speed. and i am lost in the false security that everything will stay between the lines. this world of order slowly begins to watercolour bleed. the interlude ends)
i have a head full of worms. made of memory and light. crawling the empty rooms, looking for warmth. my tongue has started turning black from the infection. i am afraid to open my mouth. i have a head full of words. unspoken. lips waxed. unsealed yet unbroken. i have a head full of light. i am light headed. a headlight.