Guarda mi disse, le feroce Erine
Let us come upon him first as if in a dream,
anonymous triple presence,
memory made substance and tally of hearts rot:
then in the waking Now be demonstrable, seem
sole aspect of beings essence,
coffin to the living touch, selfs Iscariot.
Then he will loath the years recurrent long caress
without hope of divorce,
envying idiocys apathy or the stress
of definite remorse.
He will lapse into a halflife lest the taut force
of the minds eagerness
recall those fiends or new apparitions endorse
his excessive distress.
He will shrink, his manhood leave him, slough selfaware
the last skin of the flayed: despair.
He will nurse his terror carefully, uncertain
even of deaths solace,
impotent to outpace
dispersion of the soul, disruption of the brain.
