Distress

I don't come to conquer your flesh tonightO beast!In whom are the sins of the race, nor to stirin your foul tresses a mournful tempestbeneath the fatal boredom my kisses pour.A heavy sleep without those dreams that creepunder curtains alien to remorse, i ask of your bed.Sleep you can savour after your dark deceits,you who know more of Nothingness than the dead.For Vice, gnawing this inborn nobleness of minemarked me, like you, with its sterilitybut shroud-haunted, pale, destroyed, I flee.While that heart no tooth of any crimeCan wound lives in your breast of stoneFrightened of dying while I sleep alone