forbidden

the Sweet Mother in a
repulsive costume of dressed illusion,
a symphony of timeless shadow
calculated within the false apparatus
of beauty.

a blue dream spoken in the
frantic, crying language
of Music. boiling lust
worshiping with a screaming tongue beneath
the constant ache of
our raw, rotting meat -

Oh, this delirium of death,
the Mad language of impossible, The Watch
and want of the drunk,
the still mist of bitter whispers, Stench
of coma, the nightmare and
Truth of
Know Thyself,
so terrible.
so forbidden.