Painting a portrait: In the chamber

Your harsh Mephistophelian grin
And your tender graces
Smirks my trust away
Then shrouds my loving traces

Your impenetrable armored self
Fixed and furnished heavily
And elemental, burdensome
Grants me no sovereignty

Oh speak but one kind word to me
Oh seek and you will find
Where the moon shines eve to morn
And where the sun does lie

Ye, think, the gnomon speaks, ‘tis day
For many hours more
Yet you sleep, disturbed, dismayed
Sprayed upon the floor