Pieces.

Some people are pleasant in passing
But at length they become anchors made of conversation
And I'm dragged down and I drown in my apathy

-

There's a figure in the corn
A figure all in black
I don't think it has eyes anymore
It's watching everything
Maybe it can hear my thou-

-

Rea died that night
I beat her brains out and she sank into the dirt
Some say when the moon is right
You can hear her singing from the trees
So, I failed
I suppose

But at least she felt hurt
Like I once did
Who knows

-

When I was but a catechumen
Ludibrious and vain
I came to the necropolis
To shield myself from rain
Lupine invaders followed me
Into the hallowed halls
In crypsis I evaded them
Ascending the tower tall

-

The Vodyanoy!
That slimy beggar with deep green eyes
Shambling like the river tide
Inexorable

Have you made the appeasement, dorogaya?