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Distress
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Sabaoth
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1
I don't come to conquer your flesh tonight
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O beast!
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In whom are the sins of the race, nor to stir
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In your foul tresses a mournful tempest
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Beneath the fatal boredom my kisses pour.
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A heavy sleep without those dreams that creep
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Under curtains alien to remorse, I ask of your bed.
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Sleep you can savour after your dark deceits,
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You who know more of Nothingness than the dead.
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For Vice, gnawing this inborn nobleness of mine
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Marked me, like you, with it's sterility
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But shroud-haunted, pale, destroyed, I flee.
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While that heart no tooth of any crime
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Can wound lives in your breast of stone
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Frightened of dying while I sleep alone
Yahweh Sabaoth | Nathaniel Bassey
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