Every time I write a lineI take some more spaceI create a limbA jawI am hollowAnd fainted in real worldI create myselfOnly in poetry.

sinking deeper into despairmy heart coveth what it cannotit is with dread this admittancethe heart can be so ficklewhen it has set its sights on onea soul so very intelligent yet coldthe very idea of me fills him with...

in your unhinged state you miss somethingto caress a notion and really feelthe darkness greets do you yet know your Mistress?strung along on vowel and vowgripping tongue of mirthyou stir and then departgrazing the lustthen never fulfillingcovetous need face...