Shadowland

The first searing edges of
dawn lacerate the morning sky
burning bright furrows in nuclear fire.

Beyond the phalanx of shattered mountains, 
we abide in cool shadows of eerie desolation. 
There’s no doubt the redoubt we seek is lost
within the hunger of illusion,
we are the hardcore carnivore fleeing the flame of purification. 

Alabaster flowers worship the warm rust
sucked from tainted veins.
The veins of Venus, 
striations of pale lavender twitching,
crawling, writhing yet succumbing
willingly to
thorny embrace. 

Claw the mark.
Drink sweet succulence from the chalice of sin.
Succumb to cloying redolence.
Fear the white death. 
Feed the aching need.

The black froth of spent frenzy bubbles
still upon undead lips, this I sip as I cherish
the feral glow in your eyes.

How like madness this must seem to those
of lesser dreams. But for us there is no madness
or delusion as we dissolve our beings in the primordial
lust of inchoate desire. 

Time has become an endless exploration into forever.
There is no path. We have broken trail into a land of
phantasms, where reality bends knee to our will.

To the freshness of the next kill.

Reviews

[bree]

gorgeous, gorgeous words; the imagery is so lovely and haunting.