It is that My love has become so wild, So much like the adoring child That my eyes begin to stare At the wrong breath, the wrong air. My face begins to move For the lonely kiss. It is that my eyes do not wish For sleep to be. My yearnings are stemming From the most murderous heart That thuds like the tolling knell Not wanting to speak, not wanting to tell The secret from the lie. For my eyes have become like frost Buried with no more beauty In the skull that holds only sickness, Only the worshiped loneliness. Has she for a heart The pain that leaves no stain Upon the idle current that goes to restrain Me, in its shape, in its form? My eyes wander Down her throat, where only Hell was swallowed, Where Heaven was unseen In its faintest glow.