Nights came tralling ghost concertos

Heartstrings a score of skeletal reaper bows

Playing torture chamber music allegretto

Conducting over throes trashed to crescendo



Skinless the dark shall scream

Hoarse Her symphonies



Deathmashed as the moon

That had lifted Her dreams

And frowned on the winding steps down

To where the vulgar strayed,

Taunting sick Her tender prey

She glided in Her bridal gown



How sleep the pure

Desire in Violent Overture



An emanation of phantom madness

The Countess beheld in shroud

By girls bereft of future vows

Soon to wed in white the frosted ground

Burning like a brand on the countenance of god

A yearning took Her hand to His Seraphim, bound



Deep red hissed the cat whips

On the whim of ill-will

Whilst She entranced, nonchalant, abliss

Flayed further songs of overkill



How weep the pure

Desire in Violent overture



In a crescent-whime cellar of crushed roses

Pooled blood and broken dolls

A torchlit shadow theatre souled

With the echoed cries of lives She stole



Killing time

She struck the hours dead

In Her control

Thus menopaused

Her clock of hacked out cunts

Began to toll



"Thirteen chimes of ancient strain

I conjure forth with dirge

That fills the void with timbred pain

To fulfil my sexual urge"



Frights came wailing from the Darkside

Haunting lipless mouths a fugue of arcane diatribes

Velvet, their voices coffined Her in slumber

Bespattered and appeased

As pregnant skies outside bore thunder



How sleep the pure

Desire in violent overture



As when high winds

Attune whipped trees

Her savage nature pitched

Would once again conduct the pleas

Of those She loved to agonies



As if it were

The first time every night

That She carved Her seal

In the flesh of life.