Black Velvet Rose: Book of Thorns

within the vapors

of smoky opium filled air,

in photos of black and white

rotating deja-vu like...

 

Whores of talent and spite

dance their way through the night,

veiled in opaque silk

these naked harlots...

 

Filrting with their empty stares

as their hissing tongues caress your lips,

exploitive fingers caressing your felsh

you have fallen into their den of snakes...

 

Ab(sin)the poisons your mind and body

masquerading as sweet rapture,

the taste of cherries upon your lips

with dancing wormsoods upon your brain...

 

The shadows all fade to gray

as the voices inside begin to pray,

you sit stammering over your pen

writing your drugged-muse poems...

 

With candles standing tall

the wax flows like water,

the flame licks at your eyes

as the night turns into an obsidion hue...

 

Remnants of the day long forgotten

when you accomplish a state of such madness,

with these whores envisioning a muse

reaching for fame written within metaphors...

 

As early dawn approaches

a foggy mist covers your eyes,

shaking off your dizzy head

leaving you to wonder was it a dream or was it real?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2012 Black Velvet Rose.