Deer, one Frozen delight Beneath the Moon. Reflections in the screams Press metal Over the iris blooms. The pain was always there. Whimpers, in rivers and lakes, Upon a rocky bed Pour out beneath This shadow, me.
Shavings of sadness litter deserted streets ready to attach Parasites that will corrupt the good-natured pedestrian The stroll of solitude serving to invite a malady of tears Steel grey mornings or bruised midnights They will be waiting.