Weird and hot over the trees
You confound grotesque devils below the light
We Reach! The Knave never ends
Sinister and quaking about the mist
I converse with green flames within the rain
Repent! The sin is over
So cold among the lights
You pull hot dreams near the spirits
Oh God! The end is born
translucent, tired
turning away and-
a backward glance
Where in the end
a shadow in
my likeness
seeks the road back
to the temptress...
Adding your comment: