Mihi Kavorka

 
Its name is cimmerian rapture  
It leaves a lackluster trail of tears  
Such as the dacryphilia of a man  
Who craves those convoluted things  
 
Only one who is heavily laden  
With a beguiling curse upon his head  
Is aware of the obscene impurities it carries  
And will be shattered by the immensity of it  
 
When lovers share that scar  
They consume its bleakness as one  
Tasting of carnal lust and swallowing the sins  
Pain becomes necessity and punishment rides it hard  
 
Perhaps they will go down in flame  
Everything they've touched, singed to wasted ash  
For The Kavorka was born of living flesh and passion  
And in its sublime depravity, those we love are set ablaze