In a mystical graveyard fog primordial swamp lands cry
the Moon devours icy stars
clouded pastel hues arrive
traversing into the universe vagabonds of a dark night
we desire tomorrow’s pain
upon a visceral dream state
a comets tail stings the soul be monarch or revolutionary
anarchist or fallen sovereign
inhaling a cold crimson mist.
whispers in a turquoise haze hatred fears the homestead
floating in a prism of stains
piety carries a cross of fury,
as I wake with a sudden jolt, a lost misty queried fantasy,
cold lifeless strangled soul,
a hard grasp in the marrow.
Seethe deep underground, with crispy labored breaths
buried alive it now seems,
into a vessel of lonely death.
Life bequeaths a venom, heartless emasculated decree.
Within that crimson cold
Satan, from below, calls to me
yes, I was hated in my day but now everybody loves me.