“And all the while I thought about you
There was a sense of chaotic calm
It screamed to me to devour you
A recipe of sin and lust, irresistible night
Just the old darkness growing around
And I chose to plunge in depths of your desire
For you seemed to me to be made of fire
What else could burn our shadows abound
Yet soon the night ceased to grow
And warmth of air suffocated
For once the flames start to die
It burns one with an agony and more
And all the while I thought it was over
I craved for you as an addicted insomniac
Such is the habit of night my dear
One is bound to suffer yet waits
Until solitude is withered and trampled
Once again, alas!”
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