deepundergroundpoetry.com

PHANTASMORGASMIC

I can see her,
Phantasmagoric,
In the lantern�s light.
In my screams,
She takes delight.
She watches me,
Phantasmorgasmic,
Inside she twitches,
Moistened dead flesh,
Pushing against the stitches.

In lifeless throes, she takes the bone
And rams it home, by the tomes
The word of the snakes, it slakes
Thirst that bakes by the lake
Of burning flames, she plays the game,
What a shame, that she must mar
Those flawless features.

Dipping with juice, she�s so loose
Upon the noose, do you have a clue
Of horrors that taste, upon the waste
That she shakes from the gates?
Necromantic love, shunned by above,
If only use a glove to numb
The hardcore scenes.

Her sensual curves,
Sets me to burn.
Her lacerations,
Make me blow.
Every night I burn
For her return,
Still I yearn
For the turning
Of the churn.

Her necrotic flesh, my only wish
For a dish of my hunger quenched.
Tasty delight, in the night
Before she takes flight, I am quite
Surprised to see, her beyond the trees,
When she leaves me alone
In such suffering.

I can see her,
Phantasmagoric,
In the lantern�s light.
In my screams,
She takes delight.
She watches me,
Phantasmorgasmic,
Inside she twitches,
Moistened dead flesh,
Pushing against the stitches.