“I am he who haunts thy dreams.
I am that which makes thou tremble.
I what promotes your screams.
I am he for whom the dead assemble.”
Flirting she provoked me,
Rising from my lonesome grave.
A whore’s inviting countenance,
Jesus could not save.
From this cliff's edge,
Lined with trees that weep.
For my noctuary Aphrodite,
Who now naively sleeps.
My Diana and Persephone.
I am Draconian might.
Incubus commanding the night.
The wraith of feverish swoon.
Desire in fragrant blooms.
Death in gentlemen's dress.
A wolf to move amidst the rest.
The thing that should not be,
Swathed in regality.
A misbehaved illuminati whipped with Orion's belt,
Thin across that heaving body,
She will sport a bruising welt.
Where the pain thus heightened lingers,
In bondage masque she felt,
Decay's cold tickling fingers.
The tarot cards are dealt.
For one graven kiss,
That would fulfill her precarious wish.
And my pretentious trecherising lips
Were flung upon a wayward tryst.
Wreathed in mist,
All care dismissed,
She dances along wooded trails.
Chilled to the bone,
And not alone,
Reminiscent of old gypsy tales.
The stars ran helter skelter.
Angels stare with jealous eyes,
'Pon this undead rake who felt her.
A Venus as his prize.
Emotions that awoke
(Much to my disdain)
Free to flame and Mercy's smoke,
Only wilt and ash remain.
From the world’s edge,
Where the air is thick and sweet,
For the cold kiss of Death,
That thy lips are meant to meet.
Following her dreams
Of celestial themes.
Prowling the scene,
Where the dour knell would ring,
Like a circling vulture that brings thee imperishable means.
Shackled by darker things.
My snow white Aphrodite,
So long led astray from light.
And in thy repose,
My deep interest grows,
For visions beyond mortal sight.
Alice toying with her rabbit's hole,
Where glazed eyes gleaming black as coal.
An escape from life so trite and droll,
Drink her blood and fuck her soul.
From gallow's hill in love bespattered,
Her blushing glances always flattered,
Like sweet liquor or a scarlet flower grown to spare.
But so soon her moral shield was tattered,
Fickle wind gossiped and chattered of how my love would
promote her to whimpering in fear.
For one silver kiss.
That would deconsecrate pure lips.
And all that ye could ever wish,
Was discarded in the vast abyss.
A kiss on the cheek of innocence,
Where the Heavens and Earth retreat.
A kiss on the brow of a female psyche,
And forever this verse repeat...
“I am she who burns for thee,
In shivers and in gasps.
I am serendipity who teased in poets laps.
I am thy most humble slave,
But in that thy cruelest master,
It is thee for whom I crave,
And beg to fuck me faster.”
Was it worth it in the end
When she longed for love amiss?
Wouldst thou do it all again for one final blood soaked
kiss?
In her arms it was erotic,
Disturbing yet narcotic.
And therein,
Like heroine.
A siren's song had brought it.
Now she is gone,
But in verse and song lives on.
Never to be charmed by the light of coming dawn.
But soon,
Under the moon,
Where the darkness consumes.
I lie in wait in the shadows for you.
So squirm,
Vilest worm,
'Till death shall thou turn,
Like a whore in the casket where my lips parted yours.
Churn,
And learn,
That thy flesh will soon burn,
With a matrimony to the unhallowed grounds,
That surround,
And drown your world,
Once white tender skin to the worms is hurled.
And there's an image burning deep inside my mind,
I stand yearning in-between her decomposing thighs.
Nonchalantly in the crypt,
Masturbating by her grave side.
I mourn this wanton here,
Beneath the willow's stare.
I've spat my final prayer.
Tears crash from the sky,
That echoes my sighs,
To fall o'er her dead ears.
So those priests did well,
In forsaking the pyre,
Only to glut the thirst of a Queen Vampyre…
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
|
