Ephemeral Alter Ego (eph_ae) wrote,
Ephemeral Alter Ego

  • Music:

Plague of the Sun

a Within the moon's cradle, the blue is deep,
b darker, maybe, because the smiling is bleaching
c everything brighter, and hoarding the darkness
d for times when the Sun is a curse
e and rots the flesh to piles of pus and maggots
f that crawl under your fingernails and between your lips.

a Such a storing of blue so deep, like the kisses from your pale lips,
b is selfish to those who'd claim the deep
c of your cellar to be too deep, and the worse of a dragon you are, with wings grey from a bleaching
d by the harsh Sun who'd suffocate the darkness
e and drive the life from your pores as the black curse
f of the Middle times drove families to ruin and decay with maggots

a streaming from the crypts of superstition and the maggots
b are just the eyes of God whose lips
c would burn your mouth until your teeth were as deep
d as you'd be able to kiss, stained white from the horrid bleaching
e by that fiend Sun who would starve the owl in the darkness
f of night and utter the silent curse

a you all perceive to be blessing you, which in my reality is the curse
b I utter daily, my words worming into your brain as the blood thirsty maggots
c they are, ridding you of your lips
d that would betray you to the Sun, whose lies are so deep
e they drown me in a bath drawn with vineger and bleaching
f water to soften my pores for the wedding to the oncoming darkness.

Of that the Sun shall induce, shadow bringing darkness and the last breathy curse
to your world, swathed in maggots, uttered of black lips,
as the infection spreads deep
by the help of bleaching.
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