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My world crumbles at the sight of you. Do you think this is what I want? To fall to pieces like debris, because my mortal flesh and the seams of my brain cannot handle your sepulchral beauty? Your aphotic eyes alone rip out my stitches and I am a discombobulated mess for what feels like molassic eons afterward. I wonder, where in a sea of necropolises do I fall on your compass of conquests? Can I dig in deeper, can I writhe my devoted bones into the catacombs of your marrow and hope to bleed some sort of impression? To make your lashes flutter, your skin rise, your hair bristle, and, yes, I pray, your heart skip beats as our dark souls dance around the fire? Even if it is my funeral pyre, I'd be ravished with delight. In the chasms of my want, there flourishes an itch that can only be scratched by you. By the orgy of shadows that conduct witchcraft with your titillating features. By the stygian talons in your gaze, which I pray hunger for me in all the ways I yearn to provide. And oh, how I ache to taste the abyssal delicacies seeping from your lips - if not for any other reason than to know the flavor of a supple death before it buries me once and for all. So stop averting your gaze, and bury me. Sink your stare into me with the ruthless candor of a murder of crows and fucking bury me, my love.
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The trees liken to your lashes as you look skyward. Batting slowly, as hordes of bats storm into the dark clouds. Night is upon us. You are upon me. I've prayed against the light and summoned the delicious fright that makes my breath quiver in the wake of your dusk. Purples descend into shades deeper than onyx. A glistening abyss slides over me. Spills from your crepuscular mouth. Jaws of a chasm I pine to get lost in. Your body, a temple occupied by the devil. A sinful symbol of prurience that elicits divine defilement. Whether worthy or not, I will be your servant. Another devoted animal to your wilderness. A spectator of awe and commitment. I find asylum 'neath the creaking canopies of your shuddering darkness, an art form for for Transylvanian marketplaces. Sable lips and unstable hearts. Mine pounds as I submit my weak conviction under the incorporeal shadow of your ravenous mind. The trees continue to whisper arboreal elegies of my demise below the sowing scythes of your caliginous eyes. Their tenebrosity is intoxicating. And I wonder, oh how I mull over, will you spare my thunderous blood from the hunger burgeoning within your supple jugular? I can only hope not. For I yearn to surrender my skull and bones to the nectarous, cavernous necropolis lulling behind your breast. Put me to rest, in the lightless nest of your frigid yet igneous, voraciously nourishing flesh.
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3. |
Fjords of Unseen Crimson
02:48
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Fathomless, the swan songs calling out to me from the tributaries in your palm pull at more than my strings. I'm tugged into your vascular depths, introduced to a whole other dimension of endless deluge. A world caught in the undertow of urge and the patience of a sempiternal feast. The bittersweet collision of two warring factions to the human blueprint, beneath this clash I am breathlessly submerged. Yet in the silken errosion of your hands, along the riverbanks and fjords of unseen crimson, I unhinge my composure and detach my jaw, to indulge in the hydration of your aortic aqueducts. The irony is a mutual insanity: you, having believed to be my captor, my destructor, my devourer; and I, oh I, the parasitic remora clinging to your gluttonous caress, teeth sunken into the vessels that carry love's rawest form, devoid of metaphors, but not vacant of poetry. Do not be fooled, though; there is no clear victor in this riveting anecdote of conquer and subterfuge. There is only the hematic mausoleum at the farthest reaches of your bottomlessness, a claret pit of eternal indulgence, where we both shall float, weightless and insatiable. Our appetite unabated, but forever ingratiated with each other's sanguine treasures.
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Betwixt Lungs Vienna, Virginia
Experimental hybridization of spoken word and metal, favoring the prior.
A storytelling and poetic outlet from the vocalist of Moon Devoured, Excreta, and Entongue.
Betwixt Lungs recommends:
My first extensive endeavor into spoken word with original music.
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