born of the same dark dirt
the work of a lonely god, bodies made for each other,
trapped in a garden.
one chose the soil, a decomposition,
to be reborn poorer each time.
you chose the freedom of storms and
sanctuary in the blindness of night.
an appetite for the blood of life
and the song of demons
thriving on the fear of men.
revelling in the truth of lust.
as a son of adam you haunt my bed
a lithe container for sin
and rootless dreams.