Language of Mass Destruction

Crying tears of acid pain, on the floor of that blackened room.
That poison-ridden tongue of hers, drowning out the moon.
Her fatal words, disguised as charm, aiming for his heart
And roaring lips of quiet lust spit homicidal darts.
Her hidden thoughts being born aloud, in crackling shades of shout;
Syllables lined with harsh intent, tempting him to be cowed.
Lyrical verses of lucid assault, planned in the planes of Hell -
Grammatically sewn by the Devil himself, in his Secret Scribing Cell.
Penned by the spear that pierced Jesus' flesh, in an ink spawned from dead hopes and dreams.
The desired effect is to seep deep inside and lure out those sadistic screams.