deepundergroundpoetry.com
CREPUSCULE DESIRES AND SUICIDE SONGS
She sits, so lonely, as if a ghast upon the parapets
Needing
Craving
Insane
With the lust for her god that whets the appetite betwixt her thighs
”Forgive me, Father, for I shall sin,”
Bespoke, she spoke, to my engraved image
Held to her breasts, vestmented
Heaving with moans in secret, lamented
In candlelit midnightmare phantasies
Lucifer did so offer a member
The legacy of sin on tapestries
Between moistened thighs she shall thrust
The idol dismembered
”Forsake you, Daughter, you shall not sin,”
She feared, so dear, that she would ever hear
Loathed to admit, descendance
To the bowels of Hell, no repentance
We fornicate and desecrate
And blaspheme in His name
Witching hour, I devour
Her sweet rose and compose
My advocate of devilment
Genuflect and erect
Your phallic dreams
Of thine kingdom
”Goddamn you, Father, I feel ashamed,”
I heard, uttered, from those lips she sputtered
Glistening still, where cum spilled
Like spittle on a whore, though unfulfilled
By candlelight came shadow puppeteers
In vestal robes condemning her for sin
But the needs of the flesh overcame peers
Who sought to taste forsaken flesh
That the devil offers
We fornicate and desecrate
And blaspheme in His name
Witching hour, I devour
Her sweet rose and compose
My advocate of devilment
Genuflect and erect
Your phallic dreams
Of thine kingdom
She writhes, so ashamed, beneath the bodies of God-loving men
Harlot
Vixen
Pregnant
Dismayed by the thought her porcelain wrists were kissed by razors
I found her there beneath the darkened stairs
Where moon failed to grace my love of the night
May she rest where cold angels beware
At the cusp of doom in crepuscular twilight
i still find myself drawn to
the melody of her suicide songs
”I love to loathe
Your touch aglow
With morning scars
I’ll kill to kiss
Apocalypse
With you
My Mourning Star”
Needing
Craving
Insane
With the lust for her god that whets the appetite betwixt her thighs
”Forgive me, Father, for I shall sin,”
Bespoke, she spoke, to my engraved image
Held to her breasts, vestmented
Heaving with moans in secret, lamented
In candlelit midnightmare phantasies
Lucifer did so offer a member
The legacy of sin on tapestries
Between moistened thighs she shall thrust
The idol dismembered
”Forsake you, Daughter, you shall not sin,”
She feared, so dear, that she would ever hear
Loathed to admit, descendance
To the bowels of Hell, no repentance
We fornicate and desecrate
And blaspheme in His name
Witching hour, I devour
Her sweet rose and compose
My advocate of devilment
Genuflect and erect
Your phallic dreams
Of thine kingdom
”Goddamn you, Father, I feel ashamed,”
I heard, uttered, from those lips she sputtered
Glistening still, where cum spilled
Like spittle on a whore, though unfulfilled
By candlelight came shadow puppeteers
In vestal robes condemning her for sin
But the needs of the flesh overcame peers
Who sought to taste forsaken flesh
That the devil offers
We fornicate and desecrate
And blaspheme in His name
Witching hour, I devour
Her sweet rose and compose
My advocate of devilment
Genuflect and erect
Your phallic dreams
Of thine kingdom
She writhes, so ashamed, beneath the bodies of God-loving men
Harlot
Vixen
Pregnant
Dismayed by the thought her porcelain wrists were kissed by razors
I found her there beneath the darkened stairs
Where moon failed to grace my love of the night
May she rest where cold angels beware
At the cusp of doom in crepuscular twilight
i still find myself drawn to
the melody of her suicide songs
”I love to loathe
Your touch aglow
With morning scars
I’ll kill to kiss
Apocalypse
With you
My Mourning Star”
Published 5th Jun 2018
Author's Note
(c) 2018 Frank Green
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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11th Jun 2018 3:01am
11th Jun 2018 9:51pm
