Midnight asks if I permit her pass me,
Her dirk barely sheathed behind
Her half-shut eye, the lupine goddess.
'Oh, come now, how long shall you lie
Undetected by your own mind’s hauntress?
Deceit ill becomes humanity,
Though they are so deft at this.'
She grinds the lone unstolen
Pestle, I flail on her washboard’s ridges.
'When shall I wake from what I feel
Is still unoriginal, another’s dream?
I am the worm of someone’s mind,
For none of this could belong to me.'
Midnight, breathe the glance from its
Poor concealment, haunt me last,
Hunger me no more, what bliss
To be freed from Midnight's distress!
The Midnight breaks, the Midnight swells,
The philharmonic culminates.
Her breathing shatters fingers, fells
The dreamer to a dreary waking state.