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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required strobe into the secret night the scene of our sacred crime not just any old crime I confess to you but I cry most insidious in design a crime worthy of the divine what can such a crime be that even a God can shame thee? ‘tis but a crime of most elegant jest! for my soul has been down to the lower levels of Dantes infernos, it kinda likes it there the ice is but a thrill the old demon sleeps as I watch faces scream and talk and wink in the frozen lake Cocytus but I shall not make a fuss but do I carry on none, not I, shall I fear for I know not what I am doing how could I, how could I, the courts will not hear or understand do such shameful things my eye sees all but naught and still, I sit here or stand, nevermind in my demise, thinking things that no mortal should consider or aspire to see here before me the scene of the crime awash in cobalt in Crimson all painted in colors of justice and purity but I see not but I do hear the calls from the holly cost I have laid waste to Valhalla holy halls but what crime, what causes how can I devise, conspire contrive and execute with supreme device so insidious that even my soul will be loathed even in a divine comedy a bitter hell if only you could know my inner planes and the pain, the sadness brings the massacre of my children’s dreams. what am I but just a lonely servant to that which is ruled by my heart I love thy light bringer, Lucifer I linger here with the heavy blade glistening something wet slides from its chrome shaft along its razor edge down splashing in pools of Crimson black & cobalt fears. The car has come to a stop which the engine grinds no more, all awash in Crimson and cobalt, I stumble away from this crime scene I lay waste to my inner mind's eye… I welcome this blessed night… I'm headed to the holocaust, like to come along? I guess not?! such the pitty...
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