Lament To The Dead

History speaks epoch volumes of momentous stories
Listen to my threnody testimony in bemused puzzlement
Hearken to my firsthand account if you please

I yearned and ached with tender sadness
Desiring more than the soft-kill aspect of your flesh
Hoping for a savvy savior
Shrewd with high-octane energy
A high priest who knew the ins and outs
Prerequisite to rerouting my roller-coaster ride of mass
destruction

I longed for the end of consequence
The ramifications unknown
In the unintended glacial grace of your myrrh-scented skin
Cragged about with deviant diamonds-in-the-rough

The beat of heart, a jetway pulse on jagged mountains
My ivory-towered rose-water soul yielding
I touch your brazen brambled thorns
In your free-fire zone I undergo
A parachute drop in credibility

Possessed with unveiling tangled misty hollows
Tranquil valleys set ablaze
Flickering tendrils consuming bit by bit
The dream-filled nights you clothed me
In alabaster columns of your love
Surface-to-surface surrendering with explosive force

I keenly crave to be more in this specially marked hour
Than you perceive me to be
I would pay as I go in rubied blood, silvered sweat, and topaz
tears
Determined to be ravaged, ensconced in cruel changes
Enthralled and fascinated, not subject to dismissal
Enslaved as a prisoner to Azreal, Angel of Death