Benighted Like A Usher:         Snuffed tapers sighed   As death left impressing   His crest of cold tears on the Countess      Benighted like ill-fated usher   The house of Bathory shrouded   'Neath griefs dark facade      If only I could have wept   In mourning by her side   I would have clasped her so tight   Like storm-beached aphrodite   Drowned on Kytheraen tides      And kissed her   For from her alone   My lips would have known   Egnimas of shadowy vistas      Where pleasures took flesh   And pain, remorseless   Came freezing the breath   Of raucous life hushed unto whispers      Benighted      Inhaling the pale waning moonlight that crept   Through the crypt of her Lord who so lucidly slept      Benighted      Exhaling the wail of black widowhoods toll   Waxing eternal night entered her soul         A Murder Of Ravens In Fugue:         Now haranguing grey skies   With revenge upon life   Gnathic and Sapphic   Needs begged gendercide      Delusions of Grandier denounced the revolt   Of descrying cursed glass, disenchanted in vaults   Encircled by glyphs midst her sin-sistered cult      With hangman's abandon she plied spiritworlds   To Archangels in bondage   From light to night hurled   Cast down to the earth where torment would unfurl      But soon   Her tarot proved   Hybrid rumours spread like tumours   Would accrue   And blight her stars   However scarred   To better bitter truths   Of cold bloodbaths      As bodies rose   In rigid droves   To haunt her from their   Shallow burials imposed   When wolves exhumed   Their carthen wombs   Where heavy frosts had laboured long   To bare their wounds      To the depths of her soul they pursued   Wielding their poison they flew   Like a murder of ravens in fugue      And knowing their raptures   Would shatter her dreams   She clawed blackened books for damnation's reprieve   Baneful cawed canons on amassed enemies      So Hallow's Eve   As she received   Like Bellona to the ball   Those enemies   Fell-sisters heaved   Her torturies   Cross stained flagstones   To her carriage reined to flee      But she knew she must brave the night through   Though fear crept a deathshead o'er the moon   Like a murder of ravens in Fugue      For each masked, jewelled gaze held dread purpose   Horror froze painted eyes to cold stares   And even her dance   In the vast mirrors cast   Looked the ill of her future   If fate feasted there         Eyes That Witnessed Madness:      In an age crucified by the nails of faith   When rank scarecrows of christ blighted lands   An aloof Countess born an obsidian wraith   Dared the abyss knowing well she was damned   Her life whispered grief like a funeral march   Twisted and yearning, obsessed and entranced   With those succumbing to cruelty   Crushed 'neath the gait of her dance   A whirlwind of fire that swept through the briers   Of sweet rose her thickets of black thorn had grasped      She demanded the Heavens and forever to glean   The elixir of youth from the pure   Whilst her lesbian fantasies   Reamed to extremes   O'er decades unleashed   Came for blood's silken cure      But her reign ended swiftly   For dark Gods dreamt too deep   To heed her plea      When her gaolers were assailed   With condemnations from a priest   Who'd stammered rites   In the dead of night   For maidens staining winding sheets      And she postured proud   When her crimes were trowelled   And jezebelled to peasant lips   Though she smelt the fires   That licked limbs higher   To the tortured cunts of accomplices      So ends this twisted fable's worth   And though spared the pyre's bite   By dint of nobled bloodlined birth   Her crimes garnered her no respite      Forever severed from the thrill of coming night   Where slow death alone could grant her flight      The Spirits have all but fled judgement   I rot, alone, insane   Where the forest whispers puce laments for me   From amidst the pine and wreathed wolfsbane   Beyond these walls, wherein condemned   To the gloom of an austere tomb   I pace with feral madness sent   Through the pale beams of a guiltless moon   Who, bereft of necrologies, thus   Commands creation over the Earth   Whilst I resign my lips to death   A slow cold kiss that chides rebirth   Though one last wish is bequathed by fate   My beauty shalt wilt, unseen   Save for twin black eyes that shalt come to take   My soul to peace or Hell for company      To peace or Hell for company   My soul to Hell for company   My soul to Hell for company