Crimson Love Poems
The Stylized representation,
of this hallow muscular organ,
Perplexes minds upon the brink of insanity,
The reflected image of a shape
you deem worthy to call love,
In actuality is the deformed muscle
filled with nothing but such blood,
No love abides in such a desolate place....
The mind holds love,
Not that of a deformed organ.
Angel Of Death
Angel of death come to me
For this is what I want to be
In your Shadow all the time
Up this ladder I must climb
to be close to you would be ecstasy
For Death like life is meant to be.