Throwing your fists against the wall
Breaking the chain of dimming halos
Within a spur
Of exploited sold decay
A cynical view upon our despair
You'd hope it's enough to ease the turmoil
On shallow grounds
Lest objection sounds profane
Your tongue is hollow
Under fading suns
You're chasing figures in disguise
Solemnly we'll follow
Never taunting back
Or did the bruises signify?
Inhaling vivid perfumes
Upon which flesh was made
The agonizing synthesis and torn
That you create
Our anguish swallowed
All from none and then deranged
My psyche's ever-purified
Hearts beating inwards
As if were pushing back the tide
For your image looked so petrified
-Your Spectre's frail