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