| «All mirrors lead to my palace
|
| My exotic pleasure temple
|
| Wherein my court is both gracious and insatiable
|
| Pure and obscene
|
| For where pumps the true heart of life
|
| There too seeps corruption
|
| And from this my new Eden of nightshades, black
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| Henbane, sphinxes
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| Opium and roses weaned on tears and blood
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| Will rise up like lust
|
| And the shadow of my dark consort shalt extend
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| Himself across the face of the world…
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| …And Hell will come with Him"
|
| Part of the garden, her dark Eden
|
| Fed blood by poisoned fronds
|
| My heart hardened in her wet season
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| Treading mud in her slough of despond
|
| But only now
|
| A path lies straight before me
|
| The maze is ploughed half through with hate
|
| And her crop is dripping red
|
| Beyond eleventh hour
|
| Her beauty and brute power
|
| Grows stronger by the day
|
| And with each rose that she deflowers
|
| The longer her throes of madness stay
|
| In her grip on shredded sheets
|
| Once our fingertips had dug and clutched
|
| She whispered dreadful things to me
|
| She wanted war with God
|
| The underdog baring sharpened teeth
|
| With her armies raised from suffering
|
| To ascend on jet black wings
|
| She’d break off holy limbs
|
| On the racks of her witch hunt
|
| And crush the church beneath her heel
|
| The Pope in homage to her cunt
|
| A dark horse forcing nightmares
|
| To wring submissives dry
|
| A vampire madam batterfang
|
| With vicious streaks a mile wide
|
| Beyond eleventh hour
|
| Her kiss has turned dismissive
|
| Her glance holds slight contempt
|
| Instead those eyes burn on the prize
|
| Of fates she really likes to tempt
|
| In her grip on shredded sheets
|
| Gasping from conquered peaks of passion
|
| She whispered dreadful things to me
|
| She wanted war with God
|
| The underdog baring sharpened teeth
|
| With her armies raised from suffering
|
| To ascend on jet black wings
|
| She’d tear down mighty spires
|
| Then rear them up anew
|
| Orders forged to her desires
|
| The eleventh hour nearly through
|
| Lilith, the abyss, the slithering mists
|
| That cause all souls to stray
|
| How to resist those seductive gifts
|
| On the shore of her unholy ways?
|
| She calls my name so softly
|
| From deep banks of scented fog
|
| I almost lose myself before it starts
|
| But my spirit keeps its silence
|
| As I drift across the lake
|
| A glimpse of harem secrets
|
| Now her velvet curtain parts
|
| She is glaring like the moon
|
| The wind dies down. |
| eavesdropping
|
| As I bow before her throne
|
| And she descends to greet me
|
| Like the royal bitch to which shes grown
|
| «Come closer, what have you to say?
|
| Black cat got your tongue?
|
| «I am not your slave
|
| Nor are you my saviour»
|
| «But Isaac, I’m the only one…»
|
| I hold those cold deceiving eyes
|
| Her once hypnotic gaze
|
| And pledge eternal love. |
| then walk away
|
| Thunder seethes behind me
|
| Death adjusts her favourite mask
|
| Another lover smothered by her sanguinary darkness
|
| Clasped in the garden, here you heard
|
| This story blustered through
|
| I asked her pardon, swore my word
|
| I’d score her sweetmeats just like you
|
| For only now
|
| The truth lies prone before me
|
| I couldn’t leave her even if she stormed
|
| The heavens as were promised
|
| Beyond eleventh hour
|
| Lilith, the abyss. |
| the slithering mists
|
| Will come for you this eve
|
| Lustrous the cusp of her lingering tryst
|
| Before those fatal kisses bleed
|
| Beyond eleventh hour
|
| She will make of you a plaything
|
| Scant amusement for her bed
|
| And when naked flesh forgets to sing
|
| She’ll take your fucking soul instead
|
| Midnight strikes, the candles sputter
|
| Muttering their reeking spells
|
| I snuff their tongues, my heart a-flutter
|
| These words I speak are gates to Hell |