A starker, heavier turn in the darkness
where the absence of dreams leaves only
the absolute quiet, and the fastened gaze
of macabre, little green eyes
With a stitch of silk unblinking your shroud
a pulse of longing the absolute of prayer
beyond the threads of the silken knots
stirring the flesh that does not bleed
Beneath silence, something ancient stirs
ache moving where touch once lingered
shadows gather the warmth of wanting
night listens without mercy, unspoken prayer
Beyond the silk and the fastening of the dark
hunger that neither sleep nor death can quiet
trembling skin memory refuses surrender
reaching toward light it should not desire










