I saw your wrath for what it was
Boredom
A sense of unimaginative frustration
I am the wait, held in contempt
Caressing oh so gently a bleeding edge
The nightmares cannot come soon enough for
There is at least a cold blade ready for your embrace
Steel against thigh against me
Frightened by the silence between each passing second
Short breaths and out the lies flutter
Drying out under the sun, and why not
A truth birthing its own light
A sun, burning in another mirror
Show yourself. The flame tired of its own consumption.
Hold your glass high, there is no other star
Exposed to the winds of another sea, the heliac path runs astray under a lost horizon.
Hold yourself higher
And burn with all your thirst.
Unquenchable, still, pouring water at your feet
They love you, and wait for death again