Necrotic Tounges

A collection of thoughts about an ending world, and its effect on necrophilia.

Dear... Dear... Dear...
September skies fade away...
till the time, the wind will fall....
and the fog, thick, stain.....
my dear...

Dear... Dear... Dear...
The mourning stars will fall...
Our heavens, hells, collapse....
As the grave is opened to my necrotic
tounge...

Dear... Dear... Dear...
Your skin will be pale and death...
The scent of stench, divine...
The maggots in your face
will crawl over falling organs....

Dear...Dear...Dear...
The touch of passion gone...
Your grave, open, to passions yet unknown
shall be my bliss...
shall be my kiss...
To thee, I blow my seed
that shall please
and shall leave my mark upon....

Dear...Dear... Dear..
The moment has come to open your eyes...
Your rotten eyes....
Will cry....
As the passing seconds bring you closer to nothing
my dear...