All I can see,

Through the cold dead night,

Black lace,

In shimmering moonlight.

As the sweet smell of her perfume,

Filled with deceit,

Lolls me toward,

Some immortal release,

I find some sickness there,

Loves disease.

Contiguous bellowing from wolves,

Scream though my mind,

So softly her voice calls my name,

And my sweet passions she does bind.

Lost in an endless suffering,

Drawn from human kind.

Rapped of my very essence,

Until my death is completely designed.

Awaiting my judgment from her,

Wishing I was not confined,

To such impatience and waiting,

Until a comfort I can find.