*Arcadia, or what is now spliced of aeons' great
Gates of gold that rust in hate
Islands on grim sulfur lakes;
I have no demeanors that wait
They've left and gone away
To the rise of demise and acid rain
Where epidermis boils
Quintessence abolished and spoiled;
Grand scent of desiccant
Miff's so indelicate
Caveats and feats of nothing; No rise
My apotheosis' hellish paradise*