Odium

My muse of swamps and black valleys
have you deserted me for ghettos and back alleys?
I have suffered your exorcism
and like a blood addicted mendicant
I grieve to bleed with you once more.
Where are you my Elvira? How I long
for your charms, the crusted smear of
rust that taints your tongue and makes me
weak.
How I crave to sleep beside your thin
and withered form to feel the marble coldness
of your skin.
I need to feed from your sin.

My muse of swamps and black valleys
have you left me to the worms or consigned
me to the fire. I dial 666 but you are never home.
I am drinking chicken's blood and fornicating
with the pigs.
I made a bed of rocks and bones. I painted
all the walls in shades of red.
What more must I do to get you to my digs?

My muse I lie mournful and alone gibbering
in terror and wait for night to fall. I have an
appetite for rats and it seems spiders and centipedes
taste sweeter than truffles.
All alone I wait my screams are muffled.

Here I shall reside with tears in pale eyes
my hunger
is only to be part of your mocking nightmare.
I shall look for your phantom form each
moonrise.
Mayhap tonight will bring once more
the rapture
of
skeletal arms.