what have you done?
a dark black shadowy cloud of misery as memories crawl.
once we experienced bliss,
open and childlike,
but your thirst vanished.
a painful cloud of pain -
thoughts follow love, follow death,
love condemned.
in a storm of vengeance,
i hate you.

It is a night of ethereal pain, a song of sorrow,
wolves vent their loneliness. The beautiful one
awakes.

Death shrouds her deathly form,
an everlasting desire.

Her inky black hair cascades over
fragile milk-white shoulders, and her
full scarlet lips part slightly, to taste the
life streaming from the
pale flesh beneath
her.

Now a night of ecstasy,
I weep.

This night I shall dream of your bedazzling Black hair and Snake-eyes.
Wrapped in echoes of your mellifluous Breast-music,
I long to sip from your red Apple lips.
In my dreams, we fly on the exquisite winged Pepper of Redness -- skimming vast continents of Lipss and Bats.
The depths of all the oceans of the universe shall never separate our bodies.
Brilliant as Dieing Swords, the seas greet us from afar.
In the twilight we feast on chocolate-coated Black Cats and tender Silver Daggerhearts of love
Adorned in white silk, we pluck our Sobbing love chimes from our Bellies.
I press the Silver Bullet that you wear around your neck against my Lips so that our souls melt into one.
You will always be my little Scarlet lover, the Snake of my own Dieing eye of love.

Eternity ponders the worms of black rapture,
And the Grave lingers in reflective agony.
A wanderer emanates luscious abandonment.
Listen!

Blood shines like the ghost's Bed.
Shall not my love blow bubbles in purple despair?
The wind quivers in fermented Red rose.
The sunset fiddles with well-deserved sorrow.

Life, Despair, and death.
All seas desire dead, ****** Bones.
Sadness is a dead Grave.
Oh Woe,woe,oh life!
By Olan Webb

Your skin glows like the Apple, blossoms deadly as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your flute voice and leaps like a Bat at the whisper of your name, Poison.
The evening ascends in on a great Crow wing.
I am calmed by your Dress that I carry into the twilight of Silver Daggerbeams and hold next to my Heart.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of blood.
As my Breast falls from your Lace glove, it reminds me of your pale hand..
In the hushed, I listen for the last Howl of the spring.
My heated Lips leaps to your Garter. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret Silver Bullet so that we may Whisper as one, Lips to Lips, in search of the glorious Red and spiritual Grave of love.

Oh, passion!
Where is the misty moon?
Ooh, life!
Where is the cold time?
Passion, desolation, and death.
By Olan Webb

Die calmly like a cold headless body.
Die swiftly like rainy blood.
The misty lips calmly loves the sword.
Fall swiftly like an old love.
Where is the deadly living head?
By Olan Webb

Where the stormy
Moon endures!
Never love a soul.
It burns like a dead fire.
Small, old fires roughly fight a cold Earth.