During the pre-evening liturgy Betwixt a shabby stall Irate I sit scribing seasoned verses Silent as an infant in production
Whilst the slaughtering of pacifism Across the universe βtis my soundness Perforated by the eerie current βTwas delivered via the vapors of her breath
Curtly, such graphic memories gnaw the very bones Of what I had thought to be timeless romance Though once again Iβve been forsaken To drink all βtwas left unsaid and unknown