i worry in tenses. past, present and future to stave off the huntsman whose after my head. dire regrets are no more of a reaper than the incubus lying still under my bed. it's not the long shadow that quickens my heartbeat it's who he belongs to frightens me so. not what i acknowledge that gives me cold blood chills it's all of the lovers i'll have to forego. Cerberus came once to settle my debtor handing him payment, i'm awful contrite. for now one can love me and no one can mourn as i'm burdened to love him in black hematite.