harvest time has come again
the gloom is sleeping with me, like madness
some opposite of incandescence.
And the sweat of endless
tragedy
tempts all that is left
concede to the lullaby.
Like madness
This is the cry of tonight—this night.
This mind inside the stones, like
hearts
this love, hatred, fear
this fear.
This is the sound of his footsteps.
This is the insanity of days.
this fear—
the gloom is sleeping with me
harvest time has come again
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