Sister midnight comes blaspheming

Screaming in the keys of faith and fear

Unentwining our spines twists me to kneeling...

Spilling like the moonlight on her glistening rear



Defiled at heart

In this perfect hell

Under red leaves bleeding

Over scaled chateau we fell

To demonocracy

Where neither Adam or Eve

Conceived of such iniquities

From pleasure or pain

Or the razor's edge inbetween

Thou art my seventh heaven burning

Going down as with the sun...



Within like a river fluids moves a torrent

Bound to please

On denierred knees

In any wicked way

That her whims may warrant



I hang on every verb

Every dirty word

Interred

In her pornoglossa...



Christlike, whipped and weak

Painted nails driven through the meek

Yet in obituary

My dreams still weep

Of dark blood and fucking thee



Thou art seventh heaven burning

Going down as with the day

Baring lunar curvature

Like canvas for a lick of pain



Writhing like a viper

Deep inside her Eden

Forbidden to eat

I kiss leylines to her feet

Then baiting wrath

I steal a path

Back to the fruits of her womb



Back to the crack of her tomb...



Her roseate sliver

Quivers with snuff appeal

The torque of her hips

Lip-sync me in for the kill

Tongue-tied, tightrope and spread like disease

I drain the cup of this Miss Sire

Her water into wine for me



Thou art my seventh angel squirming

'Neath the forked tongue of the beast

Arching toward the fabled

Like a sculptured nymph seeking base relief...



Whilst the world outside

(A wood of suicide)

Would die for this release

Our slow orgasmic fuses greet...



By night and by candle

At each other's throat

In a slick drift of red

Setting god's teeth on edge

We were as wolves preying inside the fold

Of a slaughtered lamb throw

On a four poster bed...



Succulent, Succubus



Laid without rest

In the dead of the night

Succulent, Succubus



In thy arms

And thy wetness

On glossed lips I taste

Conspiracies, secrecies, sorceries laced

With thick unguent rum

Black-rayed suns and Autumn

Always in season for our nightfall from grace



Gorge upon my seed

Starved Persephone

Succulent, Succubus

Succour me.

That I might keep

Thee with me in Hades

Succulent, Succubus

Succour me