Dead Star Direct me into loves abstract ideals As I dangle from the moon Whereupon I ponder valuelessness From the depths; I transform From saccharine smiles to obliquity The meditating heart of loves abyss Mortified without a pilot Crass without a notion Crassness, for what does it owe, In its domain, listless and without concern? This primordial state is mercenary Upon the senses, throttled into relentless motion Direct me into loves abstract ideals, I crave a solid form My star is a lucid formation Whereupon I dwell.

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