The Parasite

2/09/2015

There’s a thing within, which never sleeps

Its vagueness I covet, inside night dreams

It is here that I've seen a touch of fate

I can hear ice falling

Dance in the snow, beneath many moons

I despair as I grow old

You made me whole

With the power to poses a perfect soul

It is the incessant act of growth

And the narrative is never over.