Mid-dream strangling,
creasing cotton wake,
unpillowed corona,
eclipsing red-tailed suits,
shadows spiraling behind,
Eyes swallow from my feet,
Moonlit face with brimstone meet.
“My Love,” he says, “please make your choice.
My Kingdom waits upon your voice.
Hold out your hand, give me your will,
Desire demand, you’ll have your fill.
And if you’re slaked not by my lust,
my minions fill, with your disgust.
Undying love, Eternal knows,
I’ll bear thee higher than my ho’s.
Remember Love, when all love fails
that Lust remains to whisp your sails
across the pale and stormless sea
into my arms eternally.”
Shut-ups and fingers
ain’t got nothing
to a twelve gauge
between the eyes,
fired with laughter,
fading away
to a peaceful sleep,
for now.
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You have an awesome way with words, chilling stuff indeed !
I intended this to be a serious poem, but I don’t always end up with the right intentions… one of the quirks of there not being such a thing as free will (only the illusion of such).
This one brought chuckles as I finished it… glad you enjoyed.
Not demonic chuckles I hope? 😛