“Carrion my name
For those who choose to mouth the curse
A tragic serenade
With Judas in my stride
The Gothic halls of shame
Where statues coldly hold no worse
Than the murders I reclaim
From a dark, forsaken time”

Kissing heaven, spent
He wipes lips free of his hectic discharge
Wishing to repent
For the brute that ravaged free
In slight hands beauty weeps
Conquest’s deep methodical screwing
Hurt repeatedly
Like the world wound at his feet

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