Tristania and Edgar Allan Poe do a lot of things to you.
Shadows fall upon my arms-
Through winter night;
With crimson vanguards pouring-
From you...
I break thy sheltered bones across-!
Arcing Silver;
Passing through sirene expanse-
Thy Crystal vase.
A walk across the hinterland.
Perhaps moonshine would wash away
All the cruent and the black
Wanton fingers buried within...
They tristan vale.
