In this turn of events I am carried under with no means to breathe. When the sky sank so low, I could feel it then, in the twilight mask. Fanning flames of which destroy me, yet keep me warm. And in the fire there’s a passion that is growing short. Agony and beauty, inseparable. Love leaves the body. The light I no longer see illuminates the world around me. I am lost. A hollow contour, inside will ever be. Off course, disguised. This weight is replete.