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Deep in the darks of the ancient tomb
where smoky white whispers drape the walls like tapestries of silence
where succulent temptation meets the hunger of desire
where the Sirens arise from their treasure rooms
is where we thirsty men prepared for sin to be committed--

The women...so many women, all fluttering about the den like decadent fireplace aroma 
attracted our gazes from every angle, prisms of beauty and fascination
each masters of allure, they were all-knowing of their curved angles and seduction
they were the magicians and we were willing to pull any amount from our black hats to see their tricks 
it was, in its essence, a house of haunted mirrors
showing us all the reflection of our invisible virtues

We dined like lions that night-- at the flesh
the women bit at their lips while we drank their wines..every, drop, in the house
our fanged fury and carnal impulses mocked at romance and all it stood for
so much so that the next morning was actually ashamed to arrive
but when it did we all realized what we had done
it was a ravage of the soul for all involved, a night of roars and future scratches to our Rosaries

It was a grim tale told that night, scorched with wicked and sin
it was one that no one was proud of, one we hoped would ultimately die with the whispers
it was a tale we told in secret to help us forget 
not about the sins of our present
but of the sins we were destined to commit
for this was the doorstep to bloodshed only known by those in the Seventh Circle

It was an evening to prepare ourselves for what was behind the Gates afire
it was our fleeting moment to live like the Devil before we did his work
it was a tale that I wish I was destined never to repeat
if only the battles wouldn't continue to bloom


February 17, 2016

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