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darkness crawls over the room, moving me into my fears,

further ensconcing me outside of the realm i need,

that embrace of dreams, that secret lord, desire.

slipping past the warm blankets of the bed, the bed...

i walk to that bleak, over the planks holding onto winter.

 the window holds black sky at bay,

i see myself within it, the imprisoned in lack,

amidst dancing ghosts, the wrong,

the released, my enemies.

i cry at times with the scent of that old mattress...

the window reflects as i look back,

the cold refracts, old winters passed.

if ever i had you, what days were light,

unsworn god's delight? betrayed

by my unswerving knowing,

the things gods kill are the joyous.

the ghosts get restless when the sun gets close,

it's easier to see them in the night.

during their hiding the specters become memories,

the gods can't touch them in that form,

nor can i.

cold floors hold secrets, histories,

the unrealized dreams that fell that day and bled free,

into the air where spirits touched us,

where you...

in love my sins were forgiven,

in love my lives were fulfilled,

in love i lost.

secret lords are miserable b******s with no company,

and their breath is barren as a witch's tit,

vapid in their magic, deamonic in their hopes, lonely to the floor...

light dances,  i read,

light too is a ghost in  a reflection,

light refracts the the lack the gods tried to fight.

i flail at the tide of dawn, it kills the ghosts away

i need those prayers, mine are gone,

like your last breath in that mist.