- Title: Her
- Artist: A Madness Most Discreet
"Oh, sweet Midian,
I burn for thee at heart.
Don't despair me.
Come bare me on wings of graveyard robbed leather
To where pleasure rings deep secrets
In spurts, after dark...
Under full moons waxing lyrically:
Death's poetry floods the soul,
Like the freezing seed of a demon freed
To curse the stars with vertigo.
And in their dance, in trance I've prised wide
Slick rifts twixt obsidian thighs,
Hymeneal gates to darker sides.
A glimpse of plinths where Midian lies."
- Date: 10/27/2014
- Tags: midian
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