There is decadence in my soul tonight
A wretched desire to break free
Of ghastly human limitations,
To call upon all that has slept for long
Move my fingers on its limbs
Arousing the numbed, mumbling away beauty
Of hokey hearts and forgotten times.
Hazy images from a prince's memory
Not worthy of present punctuation
Or capital crowns; shall and indeed
Grow to be long loved by his own heart.
Words, words; he could go on forever
Seducing his own pliable memory.
It is indeed a Grecian love knot,
Worthy of at least a lost poem.