Dirge Inferno

"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.

Dirge inferno!
Dirge inferno!

As it is written, damn it,
so let it be wrung!
From throats of those in overthrow
the past at last has come.

A savage bite without respite
pervades the freezing air,
this winter chill grist for his mill
if tears of joy will blear elsewhere.

And church bells drown in the cracks
of doom, the storms above us hew
as lightning runs like bifurcate
tongues deflowering two by two.

Hissing malcontent he storms
the skies on electric discharge,
pissing in contempt on the
effigies of the weak.

Killing all resolve, the great
beast simmers his scarlet women.
Spit their vitriol on the
terrified face of peace.

Dirge inferno!
Dirge inferno!

As it is written, damn it,
so let it be wrung!
From throats of those in overthrow
the past at last has come.

A hellbound heart, the rose and thorn
have locked to hasten blood.
The moon disrobes to harden droves
of legions pouring.

These rivers press, his breath adorns
senates and enemy seats whilst his power
takes as ingratitude the writhing of the weak.

The writhing of the weak!

"Wormwood my name!
The poisoned star that fell to Earth,
and blistered free of shame
in the pits of self-rebirth.

Now those caves become a garret,
overseeing endless barracks
as the waters turn to claret,
and the Vatican satins burn."