deep inside the casket of the velvet brie
the shredded milk from tusks of tortured stew
as mellow as the day in its fermenting terror of fortunate chance
sniggers with the bragging beads of communal stones in dusks deserted pond.
I am all but dead as I suckle the breast of the headless imp
breathing the porcupines phlem into my lungs of coated flesh in clotted cheese.
with sorrows eyes drunk on euphoric wine
the slime of enchanted love picks through the bones of my erected sweat
dripping onto the musical chains of lifes final hour.
the hungry horse showers my bride with unrivalled pain
with vowels of pitted verbs through curtains of hidden rain
the cortisone needle picks through remains of my buttered brain.
she is all but dead as she suckles the breast of the maggots paw
her periodic love destined for the graveyard of prehistoric paste
let her heart march with the marching band of sugared strands
deep inside the casket of the velvet brie
with sorrows eyes drunk on euphoric wine;