It's not the energy reeling
Nor the lines in your face
Nor the cloud on the ceiling
Nor the clouds in the space
It's not the phone on the table
Nor the bed in the earth
Nor the bed in the stable
Nor your stable words
It's not the formless being
Nor the cry in the air
Nor the boy I'm seeing
Nor her long black hair

It's not the room
The beginning
Not the crowd
Not winning
Not the planet
Not spinning
Not a ruse
Not heat
Not the fire lapping up the creek
Not food
Not to eat

Not the meat of your thigh
Nor the spine tattoo
Nor your shimmery eye
Nor the wet of the dew
It's not the warm illusion
Lapping up the creek
Not what you really wanted
Nor the mess in your purse
Nor the bed that is haunted
With the blanket of thirst
Not the hunger revealing
Nor the ricochet in the cave
Nor the hand that is healing
Nor the nameless grave

Not the crowd
Not winning
Not the planet
Not spinning
Not heat