I woke up panicked, short a ghost Water running in the bathroom sink I listed sideways from my bed And threw my body down the hall Forearm to ledge, I braced And smeared the steam to find my face Imagine my confusion and my horror As my body said to me as if to another Baby, I'm not Baby, I'm not Baby, I'm not a werewolf But I don’t know about you But our words shared a carnivore sound Like we cut our meat with the side of our mouths Our words bent like knives I remember nothing but horizon I remember nothing but horizon I ate miles and miles of the horizon Limping home through a stubbled field Missing half of my left hand Door ajar, abandoned car I bandaged it with a potato-chip bag Thoughts drained out though a ruby red sluice I could not read them I'm here before the mirror With the steam cleared away I see my flanks raw, bedazzled In a spray of rock-salt haze Indescribable filth under my fingernails, remaining I ate every story, I ate every myth When I finished with the Minotaur, I ate the Labyrinth I ate every story, I ate every myth When I finished with the Minotaur, I ate the Labyrinth So if I'm not, what have I done? You dream too hard, says my reflection But, baby, I'm not Oh, baby, I'm not Baby, I'm not