An Empty Catacomb of Prayer #22

Godless nights,
trapped in my own devices.

Through a quaternary field;
they slowly divide my anger.
And I push, and they pull;
and somewhere in between
comes the long, deep, guttural moan.

Is it fantasy?
Or mere forgotten shores which lead me to your door?

Depths of field,
shadows sometimes,
a cure placed upon my eyes.

I am not so surreal a person
nor a thing,
as you.
As I have want to;

Be.

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Godless nights,
trapped in my own devices.

Through a quaternary field;
they slowly divide my anger.
And I push, and they pull;
and somewhere in between
comes the long, deep, guttural moan.

Is it fantasy?
Or mere forgotten shores which lead me to your door?

Depths of field,
shadows sometimes,
a cure placed upon my eyes.

I am not so surreal a person
nor a thing,
as you.
As I have want to;

Be.

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