O what do you see in my two doleful eyes?
I know that you see your own revered presence.
A flame softly burning, never to die.

Arcanely gaze at me and so thoroughly scry,
Soothsay our fate of divine coalescence.
O what do you see in my two doleful eyes?

You are the sun of my nebulous skies.
Heal my soul with your bright luminescence.
A flame softly burning, never to die.

Like the blossoming grasslands nearby,
You imbue me with your holy florescence.
O what do you see in my two doleful eyes?

With such gratified tears do I ceaselessly cry,
As I cheerily flare in your love’s incandescence.
A flame softly burning, never to die.

You are the numen whom I glorify,
Along with your sanctified essence.
O what do you see in my two doleful eyes?
A flame softly burning, never to die.

I shall holler your name in the gloaming,
But my words shall not break through the fog.
I wonder where you are ceaselessly roaming.
As I drown in my heart’s deleterious bog.

Come, I beg of you, to my arms weak and frail.
Am I condemned to this horrid, sulfurous place?
Ruthlessly crucified with love's wretched nails.
How I long for your ethereal, numbing embrace.

Where are you my love? O where have you gone?
You have mystically vanished deep into the mist.
I will wearily trudge this marsh through the dawn.

It is you that I see in the luminous midst.
You are the sunrise, the emergence of light.
My revered lucid sunlight in days and in nights.

The remains of weary waifs forlorn,
Lay scattered across daisy meadows.
Burnished bones with garments torn,
Intertwined with sunlit billows.

Through the skulls a zephyr whistles,
Quivering the efflorescent verdancy,
Swaying every blossomed bristle,
As the early sun gleamed fervently.

Light reflects upon those perished,
Illuminating bygone, derelict graves.
Neither ****** nor at all cherished,
They repose in obscure haze.

Resting in a vanished empyrean,
Clouded and embraced by flora,
Blooming different shades of green,
Around the skulls it casts an aura.

Caressed by gleams of moonlit nights,
Brushed by sunrise upon morning.
Shone upon by hallowed lights,
In death the bones recline aborning.

So shunned, forsaken upon birth,
Adopted warmly by their Death.
With him they putrefy in mirth,
Sipping the ethereal waters of Lethe.

In a frigorific and caliginous dungeon,
You ensconce me along with the dust.
Our flesh is so terribly pungent,
With the scents of a violent lust.

Two vile and barbarous lovers,
Indulging in our brutal embrace.
Teeth stained with vermillion colors,
As a baneful grin adorns your face.

You pounce upon me like your prey,
As I helplessly lie in pure rapture.
Mauling and kicking away,
You have me blissfully captured.

I am entombed in your grip,
As vermin between beastly jaws,
Leaving my heavenly ichor to drip.
Soon to be torn by bellicose claws.

Quaff the crimson from my veins,
Suckle at the jugular nectar,
For I shall bide in these chains
As a bloodless and pallid white specter.

On this algid brumal night,
As the moon was barely white,
She gazed so tenderly at me
With a stark and petrifying glare.

For on this eve of eldritch scare,
Her eyes have swallowed all the light,
As she set the shadows to roam free,
With a ruthless wicked glee.

The goddess of the dark and grim,
Softly crooning deathly hymns,
She fiercely rules the gloomy murk,
Commanding all the nightly devils.

In grisly sacrilege and death she revels,
On witching hours drab and dim,
When the crows and ravens chirk,
And her shadowed servants lurk.

Great murky tides so viciously flailed,
Clawing and gnawing at the grey rugged shore,
Washing up remnants of an ill-fated sail,
The coastline now littered with ruin and gore.

Bloated dead mariners scattered about,
Their ribcages open and nested by gulls,
Pecking at entrails as blood gently spouts,
Staining with crimson the ship's shattered hull.

The billows shall swallow the barnacled bones,
Crushing them into Poseidon's cursed sand,
Creating new coastlines in foggy unknowns,
Waiting for other doomed sailors to land.

Awakening me from my idle and doze,
The skiff began rocking with every great billow,
When all of a sudden a maiden arose,
With the tresses of a bronze-drenched willow.

Her pale white visage shone lunar light,
Reflecting on her body of shimmering scales.
She rivaled the moon on this stygian night,
Spattering water with her forked turquoise tail.

Her song was enchantingly melodious,
An exquisite harmony of pure elation.
In this blur and daze so utterly euphonious,
I wished for there to be no last cessation.

Then was I dragged into the depths of the sea,
Grasped by her glacial yet placid embrace.
I surrendered on attempting to set myself free.
The barnacled seabed is my true-destined place.

A distant death knell tolls,
So deafening yet meek.
I wonder where the steeple is,
In this meadow dry and bleak.

Trailing shallow footprints,
Trudging in the withered grass,
Ears ringing from the bell,
I have reached the church at last.

A lone skeletal framework
Holding up the wretched knell,
Swaying through the murky skies.
What dread and glee shall it foretell?

A hole is dug in dirt beneath it,
A predetermined grave for me,
For my flesh and weary spirit.
From here I shall never flee.

Lying down with both eyes shut,
I sensed a figure above mine.
From the hole I tried to jut,
As I glanced at eyes that shine.

The everlasting scorching sting of the scourge
Scarlet globules cascade like autumn rain

With the whistling whip my flesh shall merge
I shall revel in the fiery delight of this pain

Every luscious lash leaves its sacred imprint
Adorning the skin with the symbols of zeal

Yet it is not in the name of divinity’s glint
But rather a flaring fire which very few feel

Like a stray mongrel with its tail set ablaze
I shall forever be led by agonizing gratification

Enchanted by a hypnotic hot-blooded haze
A cycle of sensational pain and painful sensation

The subtle sun of silent dawn,
As a bashful little fawn,
Shyly crawls through all the fissures.

Between stonework the light slithers,
Illuminating cracked stained glass,
Reflecting dimly from corroded brass.

The dreary drab is wholly gelid,
Like the bones that lie embedded,
Protruding slightly from the mud.

They bloom as springtime buds.
Relics forsaken and forlorn,
Never shall they be reborn.

Amalgamating with the dust,
With putrid grime and rust,
Eternally decaying in this crypt.

A grave so grey and nondescript.
Housing souls so withered and so rotten,
To be overgrown and long-forgotten.

So slightly below the splintered white ceiling,
I dreadfully shrieked at what the wall was revealing.

An apparition so putrid it rendered me ill.
Petrified numb I stood soundlessly still.

It felt as if glancing into an ominous mirror,
One in which my grisly demise was ever so nearer.

The bones were exposed and the face had decayed,
Sockets were empty and the skin had been flayed.

The hideous doppelganger then wearily stated,
Soothsaying that my damnable soul was ill-fated.

Like a rabid old beast I lunged at the wraith,
Viscously clawing and drubbing to scathe.

I suddenly swooned and plunged with a thud,
Awakening later in a pool of my blood.

As I lay moribund on this cold winter's night,
I stare at the wall with a terrible fright.

The spot on the wall which I relentlessly beat
Shone with the crimson of fresh slaughtered meat.

But the blood on the wall was not just a stain,
Rather my portrait of whom I have slain.

The corpses in mud so corrupt and alluring,
As relics of the sinful saints from times past.
This land is a grave so boundless and vast,
I have yet to grasp what it is obscuring.

The blessed and the cursed are amassing,
Speaking in tongues only they comprehend.
Do they sing praise of their sins or repent?
Perishing again with each moment passing.

An accursed miasma seeps into my nose.
The stench of death and scent of Hell,
It is here where I shall dwell,
On the land of pitch black crows.

I have finally fallen and shall not rise to stand,
Alas understanding the language of death.
Though I cannot recite it in life and in breath,
For I have now perished and this is my land.

Her frowze red as rust,
Piercing my dermis with lust,
Tainting my blood,
With lecherous tetanus crud.

Our bodies concoct,
My jaw firmly locked
With the aching of flesh,
As we spasmodically thresh.

She renders me catatonic,
Each tissue tonic and clonic,
In a hypnotised trance,
Enchanted in dance.

My corpus now slaughtered,
Disjointed and quartered,
Not with knives deeply ******,
But with tetanus lust.

One after another hellbound lash,
Slashing skin with imprecated ash.
A whistling scourge of cleansed sin,
A passing veil of the harridan’s grin.

It cracks a hymn of fleshly anguish,
Enough to force the gods to languish.
Yet soothes and heals the wretched soul,
As a blaring rumble of a belfry’s toll.

The sinner thrives in ****** perdition,
His body aches with god's attrition.
Transfiguring so infernally demonic,
Emerging as a deity facinorous and chthonic.

He is ablaze in unimaginable fires,
Burning in the depths of frozen pyres.
Embedded in ice he shall live for eternity,
Drinking his torture and torment so fervently.

Shackled by chains of Tartarean depths,
Fetters of sins and of hellfire’s deaths.
In which he serves his mistress of sin,
As anathema is blazed upon his cursed skin.

Yesternight I had the palest of dreams,
About a maiden lamented and white.
Her chalky pallor delicately gleamed,
And her skin was as frigid as the night.

A veil of serene opaque obscured her face,
Shrouding so softly her marmoreal eyes.
Like finest porcelain concealed by thin lace,
I was allured by her ghastly still guise.

She abruptly awoke from perpetual sleep,
Greeting me faintly with a wordless hello.
Then she began to so mournfully weep,
As I hear a soft dirge for all those below.

Sing your hymn angelically my dearest lass,
For the kingdom of the dead shall now amass.