I know my nights

I know no calender now
Neither have I any visitors
Perhaps none to recall

I spoke to many stones
Out of sheer madness
Out in sunshine
Outspoken; my veins

None could recall my ills
I know not but my madness
that steers clear of gods

Naked share of markets
They have on my eyes
Their servitude, their solitude
It's alarming, may be a blood vessel

Painted scars
They hang upon my window

I know not a child born
who married me in the past

I know ills but past of madness
And steer clear of hanging fortunes

When I walked past
A veiled self
They talked past
My mirrored nights
Where I paid price
In wedding dreams