Hard to understand
A wish for dead virgins in your head
Ice cold cloud vapors
Wrapping you in your bed.
Cold grey mist with no hint of red
Just the accusing eyes of the innocent dead.
Coloured irises of oxygen and earth
Brown eyed, black eyed, blue eyed birth
Satellite eyes minus mouths of mirth
Become conjurers of sweating dreams
And weighted worries of wicked worth.
If you violated these virgins to an early death
And now dream of the spirit of love
Wake from your illusion
That loving hands will gather you
Into the impenetrable vapor above.
Banished to the clouds of the one-eyed God
To a silent ether of haze
These windblown hawks would rather haunt you
With the loss of their pair bonded gaze.
Delia