Incroch on the nest of
              My giving and I will
collect your bones
     and soil upon them.

For where there is grace
    There is also the seathing
Retribution of my thoughts
      And I will bury you unmarked.

Dealer of twisted tongue and traderous deeds
Striving to deceive
Parlay among the court and man
Yet justice has been lacked in the stasis it expands
Need I not draw my sword
Quickend to your cold heart
For what wrongs have I done
Deserving such verbal slaughter
Only wrong bond seathing from you
I who was enlightened to evil among man
For all dearest to drawn in the murky poison
Torched in vial tar as your presence smothers free will from grasp
Loving you only for a short time shall bring agony to even the calmest of minds
Not appearing as what you are
But even the best played shade fades Doomed are you for this small battle win
For vain is one who nay see farther then immediate gain
And yet shall be your undoing

pass me through this
(the lung)
an embolist--

not making a passage,
but constrict instead
all moving of hart;
all ******* of blud.

a minute will be your hands
around the neck of girl,
pale spent, lurid
in the cheeck--
a stain breathing,

below the eye
not clover
nor neither dye
but the curved hinge
from where all seathing flys.

Being awake in the dreary dream
I started to look for the seam
I knew it was there;
It had to be
Yet no zipper appeared
And no thread was left free
Nothing would unravel the dream
The world might be
Panic caught me in the chest
It was blinding, and I forget the rest
I think there was fire, a great blaze of heat
Smoke engulfing me in a wreathe
Coughing and choking
Yet I couldn’t seem to untangle
The seathing wires above my head