I can feel its decrepit hand
Beneath my chin, intent to strangle me
Its soft caress, sweet death
Free me from the confusion that cripples me
Stumbling through oblivion
'Neath the shade of overton trees
Drowned myself in cult blood
Worshiping the god of sorrow
His victims know him by many a name
In the mouths of the deceased love and hate taste the same
In a sense so serpentine
Innocence of a child
Endearment like a false hope
Adoration benign
One touch of her rotten hand
The vile stench of spiritual death
Decayed bride of primal lust
Her coffin is her bed
I can see the infirmary in your vapid eyes
You've nothing to offer me but toil
You are whore's breath and royalty
You are cadaver's saliva and fine oil
Your hands un-calloused by labor
Sought to bury me in the soil
Alight you are in a pyre
For venomous witchery
Crying for my hand
A violent task
To strike you down with the rest of the damned
Your self-inflicted torture
Happy burden on your chest
Promiscuous kiss. escape artist
The whore of developmental unrest
Your life is an unkept grave with no mourners to see
Buried 'neath the autumn harvest, you are a ghost of who you could be
