To wait at the bottom of your portrait
I have emptied my brains.
I go by many names:
Wind-in-Wall
Time Traveller in Moonlight
Colonel Panic.
But to me you will always be
Wooden Emergence.
Once I was slashed on the forehead by an artist
and I bled into his imagination.
But you can heal both him and me.
Come live in my skull and be my love
and we will all the pleasures prove
for proof’s the bandage will set me free.