Somniferum

The sponge was dipped in thick sultry gray,
Palette of penance working wonder in his mistress’s hand,
Eyes closed the Painter works, lashes casting red shadow
Pale perfection of her face still a cause of desire.

Lines of void she draws, colors of unlife twisting merrily
No bird is alive anymore to sit upon the Black Tree,
Needle-sharp branches gesturing ahoy to wilting welkin;
The empty cradle swinging restless, Mother is in sleep.

Human are such a frivolous perversion, a gray toy,
Cast of a frolicsome moment, an orphan flare
She drew on her multi-layer canvas hung by strings of blue,
Thirst for salvation surprises her, Eden stands in rich hue.

Lines start to get fade, colors being muted, her brush is dry
Desperate for a refuel once more, she moves it on her wrist
Giggling softly at the feeling, sensing its supple kiss,
Blood oozes soaking it, red like fire, like her hair.

They thought they saw enough, thought they experienced
Their fill of Sin, assumed they would stand anything
How pitiful they were, when exorcists became exorcised
Faith was as fragile as stone, Jesus didn’t compel anyone.

Slugs of centuries took their toll, Lie that belies itself;
From the Eternal Sea arose Christ, Stigmata followed Him
Smell of burning crucifix pervaded all, families rotten
Bodies adorned with paste of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Sister tried to protect brother, parent tried to protect child,
Love was judged as Incest in the benevolent eyes of Him,
She smiles in fond memories of the Great Exhumation,
Oh Lord, my Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?