Cenobite Dinner Party

The bend of a neck decorated in bruises-
soft-given by lips parted like red waters
tangle of limbs, razor claw, cloying rose,
the musk of danger laced in whitest wine.

Unearthly delights, unimaginable pleasure
we pour out our blood measure for measure
dripping spit and fluids into the censer
all are writhing flames on beds of treasure.

Do not ask who we are, for you already know
black as kitten fur, blinding as fallen snow
dazzle and gleam, all demons, we glow, grow
so bright you are trapped in hell’s undertow.

But is this Hell or Heaven, providence or sin?
Salvation on tongues like velvet, soft whispers
our religion is sensation, we probe every angle
of darkest secret, hidden places, your master.


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