THE FALLING

The Falling

 

 

 

Upon malodorous rapture of orphaned darkness,

eternal melancholy becomes twisted and hollow

In the severed reflections of sanguine shadows,

we will drown in ruby tears of pain and sorrow

 

Whispers of odium seep gently into my dreams

The raven lingers in solemn clouds dark as coal

My blood surges like a chorus of bitter requiem

After the rain, I will drink from your dying soul

 

Lay with me under solemn falls of molten pitch,

my passion will ebb into a sepulcher of livid fire

Let us walk through the season of ash and bones,

in the witching hour, you will know my desire

 

We drift into the stagnant aura of gothic salvation,

as luscious songs of misery hum in my dead mind

Dark lust sings like a cold tide of weeping voices,

sweet poison salivates behind veiled eyes unkind

 

I succumb to the lugubrious call of empty graves,

the time of the falling brings the promise of death

In the web of mortality black dreams can be found,

upon the bridge of dawn, let us take our last breath

 

Blood soaked robes hang from my slender bride,

shimmering like scarlet threads under ebon skies

After sable petals fall upon my beloveds grave,

there will be nothing but echoes of her lonely cries

 

My thirst seethes like a river of serpentine venom,

within a corroded pool I will caress you evermore

Let us discard our flesh into the chalice of destiny,

and so together we may perish into forgotten lore

 

Within carrion mists our memories fall into stone,

in the winds of purgatory my bride begins to wail

Under a full moon I cast my blood into open seas,

where the vessel of our darkness will forever sail

 

 

Arthur Crow © 2012