SHE CAN'T HELP IT IF SHE LOVES AN ADDICT

Well I guess she's got her drug
and you've got yours
but nothing lasts five minutes
these days
now we are all God's Forbidden Familiars
each one of us
wierder than the last
great weaver of webs
shorting out
through wonderous wires

Light strains our eyes,
we focus better on the dark between it
reading characters,
better than black
and those white lines
only start to look good
when the midnights
get too big to understand