Greet the Sun

Shall raw and bleeding wounds gape wide for thee and overcoat each new parchments’ page? Are thee foul succubus seeking a sage undead and living vicariously? Shall another’s soul flow unbound to thee like a courtesan released from her cage each tomes rich with crimson text overlaid. So alone, thee can dine veraciously? Shall life come a courting as thy subject? Nay, lance the ripe boil of lassitude. Purge thy barren cloister genuflect. Author thine own life thee are not destitute. Expand into the world, let life project. Arise, pale spirit and the sun exude.