Call to the done, what lies torn fewer horrid lies and truth kneels
To a whim gotten along better left dreams all real to the quick
Bellowing truth and sighed always, whispered everything
Radiant pools, amber eyes flat and vain, concern for
Perfect arrangement of need and covetous, lost lust
It’s always. More, everything. Don’t hope less
Hope for more, despair for Lea. Try her love
Death might stop, perfect claim on souls
Become lost, but hers still. Still.
And her pleasure tears your mind
Fill, maybe own it. Her pleasure.
Torn, nothing. It’s my light, taken me through
Desperate, unending years.
