Fantasie upon John Donneland
the night drags on mercilessly as any
day pitilessly asserts the omnipotence of Τime
breaks every sacred pact in the fleeting bastard’s name
not for cruelty but cool cold mercilessness as if
it were not so as if it
is not so that
my very bones feel the grinding of his teeth my very
heart is sick with self-inducéd grief
for running from him
like a coward
and a thief
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