Fractured delight, the spirit bends
Still this body never breathed

Affected glimpses, behind my lonely hill of strangeled shadows,
Have fled With voiceless words attached,
A stillness to which no silence can compare

Though as the crack subsides, and dies the self within,
An atrocious pain rises

It writhes! It writhes with mortal pangs
And seraphs sob at Satan's fangs, in human gore imbued

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions never to vanish:

Through chaos His light occurs still
Severance to thy damnation shall seem
As a blood-red fever burning,
Which would cling to Thee forever

Affected beliefs, behind my lonely hill of strangeled shadows,
Arise With vicious words attached,
An ode to which nothing can compare