the rage is all the rage the machine

sing: i will swallow your sadness and eat your cold clay
just to lift your long face
-joanna newsom

buoyant abeyance of disbelief,
blend me beautiful!
a ferocity to be fortified
in the quietude of the lonely night,
all trembling and fear are less now than sweet solace.

oh, call it off!
call it caw-cacophony!
it shall be ended.
stripped, strung and suspended,
marrow from the bone.
sucked out like poison from the wound,
emergence from the wilting womb.