vineri, 21 martie 2014


Behrime underneath sepulchred  souls, I want to shackle carnivore me;
Flick the words with the tip of my quill of twilight.
I excoriate decayed love with flaming ogle...

Grilling on lusty teeth your satin flesh is still exquisite and prohibited,
Mortify the thirst of a wicked minstrel with sweet nectar of your blood...
Now, graciously atone yourself for I sin with thy waxy bones!