My soul forsaken by hot anger, decades old, now shatters the surface. My unguarded spirit romances the past, refuses to step into the future. Only the flesh remains, alone, true to her crescendo of the cries and desires, quivering within her, propels her to forbidden places. Trapped in our white Tower we dare not trespass to the world outside. Acquiesce in this unholy season, addicted to solitude, fevered prayers and misdirected fire passions, fulfilled in blood red rituals and favored fetishes. Long for Dusk to gently tremble these oblique curtains, a waterfall of ennui. His sublime touch is the cool wonder of life, quiets my sinuous flesh. Dusk, the deep lover, draws me into a mauve light shimmering with mysteries of ancient days, illuminates the shadows of other lost souls. Dusk deftly shreds the merciless Past.