The shades are open What moonlight there is Shines like the skin of a ghost on the wall The air from the fan Blows so that The blue on the map on the wall waves A moth with its dirty blowngla** wings Flapping in slow motion The size of kites Flies through the room Over the moonlit ocean Toward the unlit lightbulb on the ceiling Its eyes Wet with ink Scan the room like a lighthouse smile Its tongue As large as mine Runs against the sides of its mouth I'm in my bed I can feel my legs My feet My hands But I can't move or speak My guardian angel has finally arrived