Sanctuarium

Breathing the air of lust,
Invisible ecstasy.
Air is moist of it,
Blatantly.
Feelings floating through the cold catacombs
Of your mind refuge,
Eternally.
Imagine neater!
Oh...
You can't.
A pick of perversion gently stabbing
The great triangle of control.
Clocks ticking.
Tic-tac,
Tic-tac.
Anatomy of
Thin-king,
Thin-king.
Why do you unknowingly agree?
Your mind is making a new decree.
Autopsy of a body.
Horror.
Post mortem.
Can't you taste, can't you see?
This fruit from the poisonous tree.
Some things you don't know,
About the dark haven of your soul.
Some things you can't find,
In the dark asylum of your mind.

Author's Note

Born of Osiris album pic can perfectly fit to this, but it was too shiny and colorful so I rather used this one. Thanks for reading. :D

Reviews

[Chris]

I liked the flavor your words left behind. And the truths at the end.

[R.A. Youngblood]

Thank you.