I fall on my pillow, sowed of grass
And dreams they came
Marching in filled with sin
Planting a weeping willow
And seeds they gave
Arching on the “killing son”
I must go away to be with you
To feel myself without you
Disappearing; reappearing
For your eyes
Death, the sister of sleep
Beware falling too deep
Awakening to gentle caress
Lord Flower couldn’t care less
Dwelling built for dusk
For things that never rust
Without rays of transformation
Strange rustling on his skin
Feeling so comely
This day is salvation
Sharper than the moon
Longest smile upon his chin
Reeling on bended knees
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