Masticating inverted seraphs

Dig deep in my
bloody reveries
burn their disease
with silky patience,

my altar rises from
the red cherry rivers
inside the basilica
between your thighs,

I have tasted
the sleeping sins
of Svarga Loka,

now I'm ready
to crawl and lick
like a gudgeon
for acidic manna,

dancing like a
belladonna flame
in your lake of fire iris.

I'm a poisonous
crutch of lust
shell out another
crazy gust rusty
eviscerated dust
brandishing fuss,

trapped as a reliable
cyanide pantomime
walking like a court jester
shushed wanderlust susurrus,

crazy exuberant blushing
drinking your silent wraith
stained by ahhh depletion,

intake the inebriated bake
lavender head rush gust
let me sleep in its wake,

licking and lapping
strawberry ornaments
siphoned from your
leaky ghost spasm
rising like a Borealis

Shinobi language

twist your tertiary beam
invading your creamy stream
now be content as steam,

your sky falls
on my abyss
of withered dreams.


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WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
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  • sylviasearcher

    This is like offering the sweet poison apple to the lips of the discontented disconnect.

    Yet that last verse lingers...

    Your sky fall
    On my abyss
    Of withered dreams

    There is a tragic inevitability which is bitter sweet.

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