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Gothic Romance (Red Roses For The Devil's Whore)Evening minuetto in a castle by the sea.A jewel more radiant than the moon, lowered her mask to me. The sublimest creature the Gods, full of fire, would marvel at making their queen. Infusing the air with her fragrant desire, and my heart reeled with grave poetry. From grace I fell in love with her. Scent and feline lure, And jade woodland eyes, that ushered in the impurest. Erotic, laden fantasies amid this warm Autumn night. She lulled me away from the rich masquerade, and together we clung in the bloodletting moonlight. Pearled Luna, what spell didst thou cast on me? Her icy kiss fervoured my neck, like whispering waves 'pon Acheron's beach. In a whirl of sweet voices and statues, that phantomed the dying trees. This debauched seductress in black, took me. In a pale azured dawn like Ligeia reborn, I tore free of my sleep, sepulchre. On the sea misted lawn where stone figures, forlorn. Lamented the spectre of her. Bewildered and weak, yet with passion replete, I hungered for past overtures. The curse of unrest and her ardent caress, came much more than my soul could endure. I, at once endeavoured to see her again. Stirring from midnight's inertia, knowing not even her name. On a thin precipice over carnal abyss, I danced like a blind acolyte. Drunk on red wine, her dead lips on mine, suffused with the perfume of night. For hours I scoured the surrounding grounds, in vain that we might meet. When storm clouds broke, ashened, fatigued, I sought refuge in a cemeterty. Sleep, usher dreams. Taint to nightmares from a sunless nether. Mistress of the dark, I now know what thou art. Screams haunt my sleep, dragged from nightmares thou hast wed together. Lamia and Lemures, spawned thee leche to snare my flesh. Portrait of the dead countess! Deep stained pain that I had dreamt. Flaunted demise, life's punishment. Leaving little strength to seal this wretched tomb. But poised nectar within my stirs, up feverous desire and morbid purpose to search. Through cobwebbed drapery to where she swoons. Goddess of the graveyard, of the tempest and moon. In flawless fatal beauty her very visage compels. Glimpses of a heaven where ghost companies fell, to mourning the loss of god in blackest velvet. Enrobed in their downfall like a swift silhouette. Fleeting, enshadowed, thou art privy to my sin. Secrets dead, wouldst thou inflict the cruel daylights upon my skin? Dost thou not want to worship me with crimson sacrifice. So my cunt may twitch against thy kiss and weep with new-found life? Red roses for the Devil's whore! Dark angels taste my tears, and whisper haunting requiems, softly to mine ear, need-fires have lured abominations here. Nocturnal pulse, my veins spill forth their water. Rent by lips I cherish most. Awash on her perfidious shores, where drowning umbra o'er the stars, ebon's graves where lovers whore, like seraphim and Nahemah! Pluck out mine eyes, hasten, attest. Blind reason against thee, enchantress. For I must know, art thou not death? My heart echoes bloodless and incensed. Doth temptation prowl night in vulvic revelry. Did not the queen of heaven come as Devil to me? On that fatal Hallow's Eve when we fled company, as the music swept around us in the crisp, fated leaves. Under horned Diana where her bloodline was sewn, in a graveyard of angels rent in cool marbled stone. I am grieving the loss of life in sombre velvet, enrobed in Death's shadow like a swifter silhouette. |