Lilith Iron-Heart is there at my deathbed
I hang white-necked from the ceiling, and
Samael is a raven, she the circling crow
Queen of Sickbeds, Abortion, and Corpses
Wife to the Demon of my Disease, a pale
hand on Samael’s shoulder, she smiles like
sin rich as flowing blood – the kind that
pours from the daggers she buries in my
mourning dove heart, I used to not fight,
smile through the pain, brush aside all
the times the Evil Queen lowered me into
bubbling volcanoes to turn me from Eve to
her, I take her form in dreams and wake up
repulsed at the starving bitch, waif of
ghosts, rotten through and through, she
has one eye because I tore the other out,
she was angling for my lungs, but instead,
I grabbed the blade, pierced her breast,
tore rue and nightingales from her brains
painted the walls with her gore, it’s all
black as pitch, she is snake-maiden, fire,
Samael’s accomplice and twin, my demons are
co-conspirators, one depression, one mania,
both wretched dregs of wine and roses, now
I wait to kill her dear King Carrion, she
has not bothered me since I ripped apart
snow white perdition and eldritch stench
of rotting apples, serpent eyes, envenomed
witch, twitch of her aorta as I bleed her
dry, dry, dry as deserts, parting Red Seas
to avenge all the terror she has wrought.

You pluck the firebird’s tail, she burns.

Burns down your lies and flies free.


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