Jack-in-the-Box

Wind the crank until the horror is released.

I.
A macabre fading mask
Layers of twisted glass
Set high on uncoiling rusted spring
Music dulled to a monotonous scream
Eyes as deep as drowning swamps
Dead and black; reflected lost thoughts
Crumpled smile and mutilated facade
As the glass slowly rotted away

Pen-blade claws and coagulated bile
A dim fucked star that was so defiled
A soggy parade hanging entrails behind

The marquess found it beguiling... almost sublime.

II.
Slathered in grime and wicked desire
An act most reviled; set his loins afire
Winding the crank, weeping thick black
Until confetti fluids seeped from the box's cracks

Through twisted passion her eyes came to life
Ripping lace and sash to reach his festering prize
But some black spell was made to start, much to soon
To quell him of his avid desire, he wouldn't his mistress undue

Satiny skin left a trail of flesh
A putrid and crawling desperate caress
Encased in foul arms, in the moonlit gloom
To be lovers forever; locked in the tomb