There upon clandestine fires of a midnight sky,
the world of forbidding awaits the dead
And we chant for our blood in Winter fields..
— In the feasts of the burning, I will be fed
Where solemn-lovers bewail o’er rivers dark,
the wilderness of the Moon falls into silence
Covet my love in a tempest of sangromancy,
for I bathe in the fever of serpents sleeping
Our ancestors float upon a song of thorns,
fading into a sea of amaranthine ..
The ebb of magick spills from trees seething
Crimson-feather’d-demons loom & seek
Within gardens covered in moss and decay,
the song of Gothic poison will tomb the weak
We rise in the requiem of a dethroned sky,
— blushing in the perfume of liquid-night
Behold the immortals! Otherworld’s we fly
I peered deep untamed-wounds whispering;
— intoxicated horizons naked and dripping
Spirits of the dead linger in broken twilight
The winds of Samhain rush thru my veins ...
Wings take flight in acid-shot dreamscapes
O’ beloved, lest thou art a fable awakening,
mine lips shall seed the void with stars
Drink you my soul in forests of scarlet rains,
and I shall clad thee in a kiss of sacrifice
Ebon-roses bloom upon spires of melancholy
Dark priests carry the lanterns of gothic lore
Glistening ivy hastens upon flesh & stone
Phantasms & hunters beseech me evermore
I am the jeweled-flame of a Dragons rage!
I am the blackness of a Ravens dream ...
— bloodlust woven into memory & mist
In this darkness there can be no light or love
Within tomorrow there is only death and spite
In the shadows of gnarled trees I wait for you
Upon a Gothic dawn, blood shall be my rite
— Arthur Crow © 2013