Opaque gases descend
Of your flaunting façade.
Choking your pizzazz
With the eirenic
Weapon of mass destruction;
You had an affaire
With Uranus you made tie.
Incest.
Smelling the scent of your hair
The heavens can't get enough.
Sitting on your calm sinew,
Can you feel
The weight of the cosmos
That was supposed to be centered
On Mount Othrys,
On the shoulders of Atlas?
Nyx chasing,
Hypnos casting enchantments,
Uranus move away
The veil you have laid,
Let Helios sneak a glimpse
And witness her placid curve.
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