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Literature Text
He lives in my nightmares,
But was born of my dreams;
Breathes in the clear air
As he buries me deep.
'It is fitting,' now I think,
'That he exist in two planes;
After all, he is the lover
That bore not one, but two names.'
But was born of my dreams;
Breathes in the clear air
As he buries me deep.
'It is fitting,' now I think,
'That he exist in two planes;
After all, he is the lover
That bore not one, but two names.'
Can't sleep and this just sort of ran around inside my mind, so I wrote it down as quick as I could. Just some past things still flaring up in my head.
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