blood dream
The tower on the isle
rings its bell
at the beckoning of midnight
An omen of grim incantations
the birth of dark eternity
veiled in the scent of her lips
Yea, she drinks the wine
of many sorrows
fleeting emotions of an existence
drawn to the desire
for the veins of humanity
The bird makes it descent
upon the forsaken god
whispers words of scorn
she bore for him
beneath the chasms of her heart
A stillborn soul
lost in the frozen chains of time
obsession without repose
crescent ivories piercing all membranes
to empty a man’s soul in darkness
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