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Behind the tyranny of golden waste

Becomes the man of putrid taste

And drawn is he - To the cries of the fallen

And over gray land - once blood

Ingrown - the wise

Felt upon and in between

The posture of heaven bent

And only to it's own - is the need of truth

Displeased - my cold disease

Beside the clouded waste of fallen time

I've risen far beyond the shadeless sky

Into the warm breath of reason's sorrow

I'm drowning in the blood of life's embrace

As thought I'd meant to melt into release

Crawling - through her open wound

To forever rise in a blackened film of regret

For lifeless past engraved

Of thought and crimes [intent]

Although never as such

Except within my private world -

I screamed away the blackened irony