Formerly Arctic Blue. Damn, haven't been active in a long time.

Streams of Lethe water branches

Out of the dark pit, milky soft.

Leaps onto falling narcissi leaves

Drips, nourishes my withered soul.

The empty poplar chair yonder

Tempts me, coaxes me over

Tranquil with the others I die

Amongst asphodel eternal.

So for eons I have fed upon the stink

Of my own lies, a meal

As befits the king of beggars.