Cicada

In the perception of lost time
When twin faces of immorality attempt divinity’s earthly crown  
Reality golden age brings forth a silken passage of prickly thorns
To love thy in pleasure  
With undulated pain, seepage pleasure as painful than gripping horns  
Rumpled sheets in darkness as a risen Cicada from the pit of a cracked ground
Eerie moans to comfort ears even the bluemoon refuses to inquire upon the harkening demonic sounds  
 
Who dares to deny the sultry pleasure found in an Angel’s sweeten arms
The King he proudly stands, the concubine shall lay open, she bears  
Scented sheets, the Queen is she, is me who keeps the castle warm
 
Mirror mirror on your cracked wall
Knowledge, power, wisdom from the fifth dimension, I stand to spiritually enthrall
 
“Who’s the fairest of them all”
 
“You may keep your apple, you wear it oh so well
Feed it to your vanity as you go straight back to hell”
 
 
Cicada