Died with the perfume of
my own infathomnable lust
i stand
Visited upon
by a curse
Of which many speak,
but few know


The dark pleasure enraptures my mind.
And summons a form so monstrous as you wouldn't believe.
To satiate the thirst, it hunts
It drains precious crimson
The gore of our ressurection
And we continue to live,
to face the raviges, and rewards, of eternity..


This is the sublime insanity hinted at behind my eyes.
The nature of the thirst still haunts me
No matter how many a time it is quenched
It dutifully returns to torment and to please.

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