Counterbalancing the replica of a cusp,
Down hallways incubating the magical scent
Reminding us that a twin is the best kind of lie
And so the perfect tragedy,
We collapse into the memory of ourselves,
Before demons were forgiven through sacrifice,
Before the necrophiliac found himself alone
Recollecting through alignment,
Using jesters to absorb secret ridicule
Preserving the singular path to ecstacy
Where hearts become stones at the sight of an equation,
It\'s only us who permit life.
The splendid lover who is neither lion, or virgin.