Period Piece
Failed every period
Did baroque badly
Afraid of blood
Dream was too lonely
I chose keeping it together
In these IKEA white walls
Of my post-war Nordic silence
But only desire is real
I must find some kind of art form
Where I can call my tongue back from the underground
There are multitudes
There are multitudes
In the doctor's office my speculum pulls me open
Spacing the space
Accidental sci-fi
Regulating my aperture, vagine savant
Some people find it painful
But all I feel is connected
All I feel is connected
There must be some kind of art form
Where I can call my blood
There are multitudes
There are multitudes
There are multitudes
Don't be afraid
It's only blood