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Written by Rachelle
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Tuesday, 18 August 2009 |
Emerald wine fuels their craving for sin,
blood smeared seductively over alabaster skin,
soft music playing for couples swinging in pairs,
as tortured victims chained in corners whisper their prayers.
Blue violet eyes shine beneath black feathered masks,
as the waiters go about handing out flasks,
take a sip of absinthe spiked with a dose of white powder
then join us in the dining hall for some fresh human chowder.
Moans and screams of those indulging upstairs,
where women once virtuous abandon their cares,
and their husbands either participate or are bound to the floor,
where they watch their wives get fucked and then beg for more.
Dance to the sound of a stranded infant's cries,
or watch the executioner gouge out their eyes,
innocents tied down are cut open and beat,
and once they've deceased they are chopped up for meat.
Music to my ears is the moans and the groans
of those being hit by sticks that cruelly break their bones,
and the oozing sound of eyes popping under raw fire,
this growing mound of corpses adds to my desire.
So join me in this dance for the crazed and the dark
where our music is death and the black jackal's bark,
where we give up our lives and indulge in the flesh
a place where our world and the dark pits of Hell mesh.
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Last Updated ( Tuesday, 25 August 2009 )
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