Consciousness can't reveal his presence
Downturned eyes; trapped, hesitant
Tranquility remains, subtle feelings receding
Now the rituals grow fervent
Trapped in all that's quiet
This, his practice; nurtured by absence
Voyeuristic practice employed with zeal
Subjects change each day through misfortune of fate
Following; sowing a spectre of doubt for their thoughts to berate More from Belie My Burial