The Bestial Weaver

The bestial weaver
Twixt the vast sage oaks and the jittering fauna
The beasts of prey are awaiting the dusk
They scent an ornate form so far away from vice and cruelty
Carnation in a realm of versatile grey

A flimsy floral nebular caressed her naked flesh

As the cold entwined her shivering spine
The rumors in the forest reached an infernal peak
Through thorny tendrils and through venomous undergrowth
She stumbled forwards to the lethian creek

Tasted liquid dreams kissed her palate sweet
Opened eyes for beauty that threatened to wither concealed
Until she dared a glimpse on eight pliant limbs
That stroke her pale thighs with the wish
To keep them eternal unseen

In a round dance of carnality she sold her human soul

Thus the recreation of her form
Was chimed in by the hissing storm
All sanity had been forfeit
In this twisted filthy autumn night

At the morbidst ball of balls she wore her cobwebbed gown
And wantonness that seemed forlorn
Inflamed in thousands of faceted orbs
The instinct forced her to obey her zodiac

A lithesome nightmare came
To augment and feed in a sadistic vein
The essence of life would detain her decay

The befouled baptism of the forest daughter
Became an image of unruly slaughter
No deity judged her for being so lewd
But as a widow she gained solitude