I say

this taking all the critics upon me
We breaking the chain around the night’s neck
and I bow
a lot shadow
over the same huge screen
I hold
in hand 
all my shadows
and I dancing
on a life of glass
then I sing arpeggios
the crickets are humming
far I tell them about the old beacon
stabbed in the body of the sea
how was dipping
the hands in ink
covering me
the sky
who was bleeding sharpening
leaving some weird marks
over other marks
a sort of ungainly scars
like some caterpillars suddenly fatten
over a very high wall