If life were at my mercy with a gun about her head,
I’d ask she bring you to myself, to lay upon the bed.
Safety off I’d tell her so, that you are mine to have,
And life would know right there and then, she’s at the mercy of my wrath.
And for my mercy she would plead
whilst begging I tell her of my needs.
I would say, in a gentle whisper,
His touch upon my skin to linger.
The gracious feel of his wandering tongue,
and the pleasurable feel of his caressing thumb.
And life, with a gun about her head,
would say, ‘You want him here inside your bed?
To feel the devils touch of sin
lingering on your precious skin?’.
And I would smile and pity her,
and ponder who she once were.
Yes. I want his touch upon my skin,
Yes. I want the devil’s sin.
Oh life, surely even you can see,
what his touch could do to me.
And for a moment, gun about her head, she smiles,
then opens up my battered old file…
Sorry dearest, she does say,
Ive checked it out against his name…
and you have nothing past today,
for it seems your futures are still…being made.
So, I look her in her eyes and shoot her in the head,
then call out to the devil as she whimpers whilst she bled,
and the devil comes a crawling,
for he’s heard all that I have said,
he smiles, winks and says,
‘let’s get him in your bed’!
Digress beyond all reason pick apart my words, the devil knows your name he listens and he’s heard. With venom in his horns and poison on his tongue it angers him to see you hurt his fallen one. He wonders why you hate, he wonders why you sneer, he wonders why it is his angel keeps you near. He gives to her a pen to write away her woes, a smooth and empty page a place for her to show. He gives to her the heavens and skies upon the earth and fills her waking moments with an eternal mirth. And still the devil wonders why she cannot see her worth. With angels at her feet and halos in the skies, he gives himself to her to teach her how to fly. But she will not leave the branch she will not trust the fall, brick upon brick she builds another wall. And deep with in her mind she wanders in a haze around the constant walls that create her chaotic maze. He knows she will not fall, for the devil knows it all. He ponders on his quest and searches through the mess. He has to find the answers, what keeps her rooted there, he searches through the darkness to find what she won’t share. And down upon his knees, crimson tears roll across his cheek, for the root that he has found it runs so very deep. He pulls and he tugs and carves it with his knife, pleading with her please break free from this life. For the devil knows your name, he hangs his head in shame spitting venom in your tea in the hope that you will see and set his fallen angel free. But the devil has a nose, there isn’t a scent he doesn’t know. He smells the fear in your blood the indifference in your sperm the spite on your spit, and suddenly it all fits. So the devil in his wisdom, as wise as he can be, conversed with the angels and made a plan to set her free. As darkness falls he whispers in her ear, as twilight is he pulls her from her sleep, as day begins his angels weep for the shame that hides for the shame she keeps.
But the devil takes her hand and pulls her too her feet, with the devil at her side she will never be beat. With the devil at her side, with the devil at her back, she’ll walk through nettled paths and stumble upon rocks, but with the devil at her back, she will find her beaten track.
The full moon is calling to the wolves, to dissect their prey and spread blood
curdling atrocities among the fallen.
Hearts breaking, souls torn from
existence, spirits nullified in the whispered hush of Satan’s love.
The apocalypse is upon man as
their blood is tainted with the indifference of deceit fuelled mist
that descends from the pits of the abyss. Selene is calling for her souls.