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.
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