So much has been lost.   
All those words forgotten. 
Naivetés long since burned away.

Passions yet unlived,  
Thirsts left unslaked.   

And this hunger 
That is never satisfied, 
A perpetual bottomless ache.  

So come to me, 
In the small hours.  

In all the places 
Light can’t reach  

Come to me darkly. 
Call out to me 
With your wickedness, 
Patent black, just the way I like it.    

Come to me, forever be my muse.    

Speak to me with luscious words.
Let them drip from your pretty mouth,
Like the juice of the most ripe fruit 
Spilling forth from your lips.    

Fill the needs I do not 
Yet know that I have.  

Many small deaths await us 
And the abyss is calling