Oh, Saint, appointed scales,
justice of my love a bud-less rose
does my devotion only come with endurance,
or is your trust a thing of complex,
the esteem of a man?
They told me who I was before I was
and I remain for you,
and yet.
What of the tempest in a cup
the disgust in your eyes
do you ever agree with this world
when you lie about running away?
I see you through the pyre, with black exhausting soul,
and so you change me, from a day when in those seconds of arousal I remember an angel in my sleep and think "someday"...
to a stale depth, an unbearable lark
and sanity is a question of guilt
Impassioned attendant of God, you make me weary with decision
Let me sleep, Let me sleep.