hark! an erinys hath shited her gaze, as apollo descents from his crest, does thee agonise over who must hath beckoned her? may thine every waking moment be torturous.
towards the window-pane above thy bed-frame,
shadows and veiled nooks and crannies morphing and twisting;
a watch-dog lowering her guard from exhaustion.
it would serve thee well to do nothing more henceforth,
than to scamper like a lowly beast,
endlessly from forest to forest,
port to port, haven to haven.
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