By Steven K Mitchell

In a locked bedroom

twin hearts

pump crimson life

Negating death

Blood races in fragile flesh

tender, lonely spirits enmesh

in soothing, perfect union

Holy, heated lust

Murmurs caress the infinite

finally climaxing in a soft crescendo

of sweet, satiation sounds

Mad, musical magic

Sperm is warm

thick and smeared

like blood

Like Blood

The past is seeping

and my tortured soul is weeping

The past has proven

The Beast to be real

He lives

in fantasy and flesh

His sirens will sing

of haunting, black things

forever

Siren

In the tall grass of evening

a demoness sings

to mad, deep-night poets

of the nature of kings

Her sibilant voice bears poison

like the scorpion's sting

inspiring dark visions

and the knowledge they bring

Death flys by softly

on featherless wings

Faintly a bell

in the church steeple rings

As it sounds

a sweet sadness

in my mind becomes madness

Feels Like

Love, feels like peace, soft light, joy, fragile bliss, kiss

slipping away, through your fingers, lost

love, feels like love, feels like...

Fear, feels like sweating, retching

trapped, no escape, dying, rotting

fear, feels like fear, feels like...

Hate, feels like mash, destroy, maim, kill

steaming blood, writhing maggots

hate, feels like hate, feels like...

Confusion?

Follow

Sheep follow

mindlessly, and without responsibility

For thought is a burden which crushes free will

under fallen pillars of possibility

When reality lies buried

sheep stand confused

So shepherds erect new pillars

to control actuality

by sheltering the sheep

under a stone sky of dead-gray

Stealing sheep dreams, sealing sheep fates

Still they follow, mindlessly

while shepherds follow The Beast, thinking he KNOWS

He knows nothing!

Follow, follow