A shattered world, A spurring dove, How my only love Could find it in her heart to bleed. Her porcelain flesh, Her chestnut locks, Her cheeks that fill the moon In an empire of doom. I want to have What makes me glad. I have turned roundabouts into lullabies, Where circles are but for the infant's cries. We sleep Deeply. Her skin Wet, with the hollowness to her flesh. I am in love with her fingers, That claw at her trembling form. I seek her eyes That do not cry. I seek her beauty That remains, to seduce me.