I Am Not Lawrence But I Cry

I am not Lawrence but I cry his tears,
And brackish brand of human wine
They trickle down like gas
From the fountain of my mind.
I am not Lawrence but stand astride a lone reprisal
Spinning a solitary spiral
From the level of the lie you tell,
And when yon die your way I shall survive
For my ways arc black ascension.
It is the level of your lies
I leave so far behind, and since I am higher held
You drive your hail home like spikes
You note these chains that grip their teeth in fire,
You thrill to see my power-slide,
It is not I decayed inside
But you, you voyeur,
And if you smile
You cannot know I dream of black ascensions.