Rotting Sleeping Beauty

(I found) my gilded forest archangel but wounded upon the forest floor

And with Her gasping last breath bore the love that she swore forevermore

I climb the haunting winding staircase With intent to plunge deep into the fathomless abyss, whence upon the precipice

But alas, a vengeful thought lures me away to savour thy lovelorn kiss

Dark taints of lustrum, an amorous covet wrought

Through thick tales of warfare, through which my loyal serpents sought

To mutiny thereafter, for eternity in sweet Tyranny's arms

Thus I tailored away to blacker pastures and philosophical psalms

And as She led them astray, through orgiastic foreplay

Each in vanity to display their likenesses per se

'Twas it not for Her beauty, a slicken goddess that they sought

For if he couldn't have Her, then god would surely forfeit Her soul

Kissing Her smouldering burnt black lips for the last

Time beats no relevance in my languished morning tonight

I hear my angel singing briskly

She gleams as mind's opera screams

Like starving voyeurs unto my coming

She appears as if in my dreams

I am the face of pain that lingers in the dark

Upon the gloomy misanthropic tears

That thou once shed underneath casket glass

When the skies were benighted, and I returned the masses to Earth

I owe these horrid fates I've sewn to a quenchless sanguine thirst

From which my race was born in illustrious bridal gowns

For a taste of immortality I licked Her lips with passions as yet unknown

Toward a myriad of forbidden lusts and midnight overthroes

To languid anguish of thee and sodden woe

Then from the shadows such a hideous crone

The sight of which left me green faced and sickly prone

To convulsive plague whereby the dozens died in droves

And christ waved his flag of truce, begging mercy to be bestowed

What triumphs may come? Tyranny in his arms

Fighting back the tears of fear for the dagger at Her throat

Biding my time, I let come what may

Then 'twixt suspenseful disarray I watch Her fall from grace

Like severed orchids, trodden to sodden Earth

Terror and tragedy immerse the cognitive horse-drawn hearse

The heavens lie in ruin at the mercy of devastation

A picturesque portrait of hell as in midnight chimes damnation

And effigies stand enthroned of sweet graceful Tyranny

A sombre monument She stands so proud in its irony

But eternity lengthens without thy sweet embrace

Or the beauty of thy face

Mortals drown in misery, in despairing mournful tears

For fallen regal icons that they once held so dear

I smell Her scent upon the gentle whispering breeze

Alas my soul, wilt thou not come back for me...?