When breath is trapped into a cage
Your sleep becomes a nightmare’s bloom.
You’re blinded by the darkness doom
And feel the night in silent rage.
A hiss of satin on your left
And velvet whisper on your right.
The frozen fever of the night
That draws you to your final cleft.
The scent of opium to daze
The acute senses of the past.
You’d better break the vessel’s mast
To save the ship when storm’s ablaze.
A hand more frozen than yours
A hand that’ll take you into sleep.
D’you hear the angels’ dangling weep?
They, jealous, weep for gentle claws.
You’re not the first nor even tenth
Whom I give kisses not to grieve.
What will you tell me on the Eve,
Right on the on the Eve before your death?
And leaning snath of silver scythe
That smells of heaven dewy hills.
Do tell me what’s in me that thrills
To take the hand that draws your life?
The failing sight the silent breath
You feel life running through a sieve.
What will you say to loving Eve
Embracing her before your death?