deepundergroundpoetry.com
Necromance (part 1)
Prejudice by a community indoctrinated,
By a black book, they were manipulated,
To condemn a soul to a confined loneliness,
A gifted man who allowed his deprived desires to caress,
The ever growing emptiness, the absence,
of a longing acceptance,
Though there was one with a sincere heart,
One with taunting beauty, whom he cherished,
On the day of their soul entwinement,
He promised to her that they will never grow apart,
As he took her hand and sealed the promise with a diamond,
She was the essence of life, the reason for his beating heart,
But after that day that she fell into an internal slumber,
His heart froze with the event of her death,
He failed to convince himself and gave her a second breath,
As he lavished her with a necrophilic type of love,
All was well but she did not speak,
As a foul smell grew worse every week,
Her face tightened by the death of passing hours,
Her beauty, deteriorating as she represented his rotting flower,
As her corpse turn to shades of unnatural colour,
He had no choice since his love for the living turned into a necro-lust,
Conjuring her from the dead he felt was a must,
He, the necromancer, wanted to bring back his belated lover,
He dressed in her clothes and wore her promised ring,
His soul slipped into mesmerizing trance,
The figures in the fire flowing around the movements of a dance,
A foul smell entered, a demonic hum followed, as the corpse started to sing,
Pleasured by this lust, this lust of necrophilia,
Swollen he entered the grotesque filling her once more,
Cold, still so cold, so tight he borrowed into her,
As the corpse still hummed ,still hummed as she clinched,
He stood by the fire once he was done,
She stood up as the warm substance ran down her thighs,
Louder and louder this demon began to hum,
As she limped towards him with turned over eyes,
She smiled grimly and tilted her head,
"Didn't your momma tell you to never play with the dead?"
Putrefaction travelled through her degraded lungs,
As she started to babble in many sinister tongues,
Still he was enthralled with necrophiliac ecstasy,
His mind gangrened with an inbred insanity,
He drew her closer and pinned her down,
He kissed her neck, her mouth and inner thighs,
Her nails dug broken from the skin,
His warmth aroused a hunger for the living flesh,
He tasted her corpse with immoral plotted sin,
His living aroma so vivid and fresh,
She wanted him in a different way for a different purpose,
Fornication was but just a reliable alluring strategy,
She never came back, but a demon finding this man worthless,
Nothing but a munch for a corpse that became hungry,
His tongue pricked alongside her elastic clitoris,
As she, diluted with blood lust, she played along,
She played the role of an irresistible temptress,
A demon who wouldn't stop until it got what it wants,
He bent her knees to her sides as he did when she had no life,
He bound them down with chains to the floor,
He gutted through her walls as the cold kept her tight,
His cherished wife became nothing but a dead whore,
With rhythm and thrust he stimulated his senses,
As the nerves in his muscles withdrew and entered,
She watched him intensely as he performed,
Smelling the life from the arteries in his neck,
Destroyed on the inside there she laid,
He pushed inside her as deep as he could,
But she didn't mind, to her he was her favourite food,
As he filled her with the end product of white rain,
He loosen her legs and let her lay free,
He was tired, exhausted and forced to fall asleep,
She licked her fingers as she cleansed herself from his residue,
The mixture of her blood and his semen settled on her tongue like morning dew,
She started to nibble at his belly,
First it was ticklish but soon became clear,
Why she wasn't back, why the demon was there,
She ripped out his intestines, she ate them greedily,
His screaming was silent when she ripped out his tongue,
And she watched him suffer as she punctured his lungs,
She hollowed out his abdomen, she cleared it thoroughly,
His death disfigured him horribly.
To be continued...
By a black book, they were manipulated,
To condemn a soul to a confined loneliness,
A gifted man who allowed his deprived desires to caress,
The ever growing emptiness, the absence,
of a longing acceptance,
Though there was one with a sincere heart,
One with taunting beauty, whom he cherished,
On the day of their soul entwinement,
He promised to her that they will never grow apart,
As he took her hand and sealed the promise with a diamond,
She was the essence of life, the reason for his beating heart,
But after that day that she fell into an internal slumber,
His heart froze with the event of her death,
He failed to convince himself and gave her a second breath,
As he lavished her with a necrophilic type of love,
All was well but she did not speak,
As a foul smell grew worse every week,
Her face tightened by the death of passing hours,
Her beauty, deteriorating as she represented his rotting flower,
As her corpse turn to shades of unnatural colour,
He had no choice since his love for the living turned into a necro-lust,
Conjuring her from the dead he felt was a must,
He, the necromancer, wanted to bring back his belated lover,
He dressed in her clothes and wore her promised ring,
His soul slipped into mesmerizing trance,
The figures in the fire flowing around the movements of a dance,
A foul smell entered, a demonic hum followed, as the corpse started to sing,
Pleasured by this lust, this lust of necrophilia,
Swollen he entered the grotesque filling her once more,
Cold, still so cold, so tight he borrowed into her,
As the corpse still hummed ,still hummed as she clinched,
He stood by the fire once he was done,
She stood up as the warm substance ran down her thighs,
Louder and louder this demon began to hum,
As she limped towards him with turned over eyes,
She smiled grimly and tilted her head,
"Didn't your momma tell you to never play with the dead?"
Putrefaction travelled through her degraded lungs,
As she started to babble in many sinister tongues,
Still he was enthralled with necrophiliac ecstasy,
His mind gangrened with an inbred insanity,
He drew her closer and pinned her down,
He kissed her neck, her mouth and inner thighs,
Her nails dug broken from the skin,
His warmth aroused a hunger for the living flesh,
He tasted her corpse with immoral plotted sin,
His living aroma so vivid and fresh,
She wanted him in a different way for a different purpose,
Fornication was but just a reliable alluring strategy,
She never came back, but a demon finding this man worthless,
Nothing but a munch for a corpse that became hungry,
His tongue pricked alongside her elastic clitoris,
As she, diluted with blood lust, she played along,
She played the role of an irresistible temptress,
A demon who wouldn't stop until it got what it wants,
He bent her knees to her sides as he did when she had no life,
He bound them down with chains to the floor,
He gutted through her walls as the cold kept her tight,
His cherished wife became nothing but a dead whore,
With rhythm and thrust he stimulated his senses,
As the nerves in his muscles withdrew and entered,
She watched him intensely as he performed,
Smelling the life from the arteries in his neck,
Destroyed on the inside there she laid,
He pushed inside her as deep as he could,
But she didn't mind, to her he was her favourite food,
As he filled her with the end product of white rain,
He loosen her legs and let her lay free,
He was tired, exhausted and forced to fall asleep,
She licked her fingers as she cleansed herself from his residue,
The mixture of her blood and his semen settled on her tongue like morning dew,
She started to nibble at his belly,
First it was ticklish but soon became clear,
Why she wasn't back, why the demon was there,
She ripped out his intestines, she ate them greedily,
His screaming was silent when she ripped out his tongue,
And she watched him suffer as she punctured his lungs,
She hollowed out his abdomen, she cleared it thoroughly,
His death disfigured him horribly.
To be continued...
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 754
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.