diminished, defeated, unknown to the gods,

fallen at the feet of those I once loved;

here I am: a warm raindrop hanging from a spiderweb,

drinking the blood of the sunset;

come with me, follow the dark staircase up to the broken sky

of yet another sleepless night; i’ve got no stories to tell

but i’ve got  illusions and false hope to peddle - 

they are the honey of the poor and the cursed;

there’s also a sweeter poison you can pour in your cup:

the guilt and self-loathing of those who were betrayed,

wounded and left for dead.

stay still, wait no more, be silent!

watch the hours dance their menuet;

do not stir in your cocoon of lostness:

every flapping of the wings is a laceration 

of the night’s smooth body.