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Amen
As the moon shed its feathers of night
the stains of dreams dripped
in pools of nightmares.
With whispers of shadows at my mind's alto
peering through my screams
hungering for the spit.
So sayeth the swingman of the scythe
reaping the blood reaching into cavities
of my soul.
As my walls turned to frost
with patches of death inscribing my chaos
before the mask of death bellows.
Whispering from the grotto
dripping from its tit a bitter mellow
Amen.
the stains of dreams dripped
in pools of nightmares.
With whispers of shadows at my mind's alto
peering through my screams
hungering for the spit.
So sayeth the swingman of the scythe
reaping the blood reaching into cavities
of my soul.
As my walls turned to frost
with patches of death inscribing my chaos
before the mask of death bellows.
Whispering from the grotto
dripping from its tit a bitter mellow
Amen.
Published 23rd Sep 2021
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