The Strings Played and Our World Was Shattered
Strings played feintly
Did the spear slice me? A phantom, a girl, a gorgingly-mute princess with blood splatter'd deep.
I heard the music whispers an age ago, but my obscurity led my heart three eons from her day.
The ages, the times, and memories gone -- one by one they have their revenge, and so she silently walks away.
Yet her touch. Her touch.
Immobile, cut with bone, weeping and seething with shame in puddle below.
Her touch, her touch. I was slain and captured with filth of an olden worry.
I ceased breathing and ceased believing I couldn't love her deeper more.
Yet, her touch. Her touch. Flying with no music sheet she sleeps in blue depressions deep.
Strings and stings
First the strings, then the stings of a vanishing love will ring.
Infections eat my soul alive. I swear of death, lost lover divine.
I taste your heel, soft and keen. Loving your darkness so glowing unseen.
I crave your stance within eye-to-eye watching my death ravel out never to die.
Then came drums
The drums, cursed be the drums that told the warning of winds gusty and sonnets rusty.
Nothing here, nothing there can bring you here. I lust at your back growing dim in my tear.
We lived in a universe of joking gods, bloody clods of feet sinking in sod.
And up our noses went. Our endless whisper'd banter spent.
Now enter Reaper
But yet her touch. Her touch. I will kiss Reaper for her touch.
Her eyeless-sockets I believed and unto my seeking, her cooing I heaped.
To please this displaced angel, this woman past heaven, I watched the innocent blood spill.
She walked so sweet letting me be her feet. Her hair a cascading cape of lies.
Ravens and Reaper
The ravens help Reaper in gather not leaving my disease in weather.
Hunger soft. Hunger sweet. I consume my life backwards her moments I eat.
I dance with fools of a forgotten hell. And drink poison promises from a liar's well.
But her touch. Her touch. Curse the director wand in hand.
I dare you sunrise and curse so dark. If dimension faileth you weaker soul.
She sits 'neath your walls to plot your time to crush time with rhyme.
A demon she is. Dark hair and bones of brass. A fog of perfumed past.
Killing me in time before cursing and grudging my image door.
Her eyelashes so slow.
Step highly, oh my silken mistress. How I crave to be in one breath.
Her taunting eyelashes so slow. A heart I dared not know.
You're a vexing flicker. A misty false shower of pleasure.
I walk no longer veiled. Your heart to Reaper's lips nailed.
Curse the twilight.
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