I dream of a Prince
with moondust in his hair
exuding the grave's glow;
with his Demon Lover's Stare
We'll raise hell at first.
-Then we'll drink what we sow
Depraved delights & wicked wines
are among the first
which will quench our thirst
I need a new incubus
to slake this wytch's fate
His wintered silvery eyes may,
whisper of forgotten wistfulness..
His bones might creak with sorrow.
Still full of that
tortured longing
for fair Zeniths' honied kiss
But I will know him- by what he grows
Yearning for the freedom of tomorrow
When the wind bring no more madness;
borrowed or bloomed
in his garden of shadows
Then in our oasis
when we find;
our elusive phoenix
We will renew &
reburn
Together
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