Twist the coils of my knight.
Atlas, why shiver?
the pressing dome of burden.
Isnt this what you dreamt of?
Rose coloured glasses,
till the paint wears.
A leap of faith.
Is it blood or ichor?
Dead are the wise.
An apologetic shrug of dawn.
Sunrise or sunset?
The gates of horn and ivory welcomes.
Hypnos, wring me of this.
The ombrielle of my dreams.
The taste of metal
taints the fiction.
Balter to a symphonic rhythm
The paracosm of my wit
A night with resonance
veni et vidi
