Darkness a’plenty, but the lust was fermenty.
Or is that you, my love? Was it a continuation of how I knew myself or a hall of mirrors, served chicanery on a platter.
Confusion a’plenty, but my insides were no longer empty.
Deeper and deeper, it’s measureless to the bottom…
I feed what is mine, and you asphyxiate on my essence, but I can’t let you be.
Neither of us are free, bound by the reverence of seasons and time.
Love a’plenty, but will you come get me?
