Retreat Of The Sacred Heart

She slept in ecstasy in hands
that fanned her wildest fantasies,
freed from Christ's frigid regime
and rigid nails.

She was first in church to
lick her lips and self-debase,
each waking second felt like Heaven
in the scarlet one's embrace.

And at last, clear memories, aghast
relinquished their control,
all things held dear to the wretched
past coalesced within her soul.

Madness crept into her sight
though her sinful gait spoke
of nothing to the contrary.

Once-dulled eyes
leapt alive with life
her piece of broken mirror
barely recognised.

The worm was turning!

For here sat grinning Victoria who,
no three weeks ago was flogged
red to euphoria for her dour love
of God and the ardour of his crows.

Cold cloisters kept the dead apart
at the retreat of the sacred heart!

She stepped in ecstasy 'neath skies
that plied her wildest fantasies,
freed into Love's reacquainted
dream and sudden gales.

Nights grew sultry late September,
a man came from the village through
the woods to help with harvest.

She was burning like the fields,
all her vows lay unfulfilled.
His name was Isaac, silent, blessed,
a mute whose tongue impressed her lately.

But now red skies darken
the roonks lament,
windswept maelstroms harken
the approach of Lilith's
Nightmare Kingdom!

The woman in her astral dreams
became more vivid, livid, obscene.
Seated on the throne of onyx blasphemies,
emanating raw desire and the
surging urge to scream.

Darkness crept into her face,
she stood erect and spoke of
riches and their whereabouts.

Finding in Isaac the need to
place a hidden Templar necklace
lest the month run out.

For now stormed the vainglorious
in her palace of mass delights.
Her power dawned victorious,
Victoria the key, her mind unfastened.

By flights of morbid fancy
psychomancy, rites of ancient wrong.
Sweet seductions, peaked eruptions
spiking through impatient song.

Cold cloisters kept the dead apart
at the retreat of the sacred heart!
The Gate to Hell was forced apart
at the retreat of the sacred heart!