Death's advent should not be swift.
Life can only crawl slowly from each crack
Within the black soul;
It flows like water through a sack.
Pain makes death a malevolent trick.
The fire must stay on the wick
Till it reveals life is but a sable,
Regretful unseen crevice
People plead for death upon the table
More desperately than clocks tick
What makes pleasureful torture a high art?
It is to linger it as skilled lovers
Prolong the desire they impart
In the deep heat beneath the silken seas.
--Ingosien
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2 comments:
Such a lovely darkness to this... Welcome new Mernacian. I have claimed you for the Fathers...
Geez, Father! You don't give anyone else a chance, do ya? lol.
Welcome aboard, Ingosien!
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