Sleepless
4 thousand miles across the pond
She still haunts my dreams and my days
Shall I get a 10-tongued whip
With barbs of steel on every strand
Shred my back and front
Till I rid my soul of perdition
That has but one destination
Born of my desires and my infatuation
Woe is me I think
For the pain is not in my flesh nor in my bones
A branding iron can not distract me
Nor the food nor the wine nor the nectar that is fresh cider
I shall lie me down now
And dream of wings of fire
Of Saturn and Pluto
One a cauldron, the other – ice
2:10am. 25/01/2017