Undressed She Came As Lady of the Damned
A gothic extravaganza.
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For an inverted moon to come from the womb,
she consecrated virgin stars,
With promises of gold, fertility, and love,
Miss Sheba appeared from the dark.
In a night so cold for bones so old,
splendor should be waiting from the door ajar,
intrepid light that burns so bright,
seduces the maiden to enter the altar.
A Miskatonic seance where spirits dance
and madness is but a drop in the tar.
It felt cruel when she curled her hair with her squalid breath,
a mockery of eons from the past.
Black blood dripping from the throne
for a queen of miasma and despair.
So ancient thy tongue that the maiden felt undone
but obedience was engraved in her head.
Mystery unveiled with the skulls reciting, pale,
the chant of a dead daymare,
one with flowers and with dowels for the crippled
and the hours that there refused to last.
The maiden grinned in fear for a ghost
so real was resting on her bed.
They called her mad,
but the beauty was uncanny for the Lady of the Lonely
provided her with the appearance of an Eve.
With seduction came adulation,
the goal of every aberration,
and the muse was thriving with affairs.
For her eyes blinded by mist as the Lady of the Filth
madly laughed as she reached for her heart.
© Lucas Melo 2022
EN-US
DE-EU
