POEM OF THE WEEK

ACF

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Attraction can fold the soul,
as could fear bend the spirit.
All chambers fresh to the mind
are corrupt fortresses without light.

Awaiting corpses filled of blood,
archangel, Count... feed on me tonight.
Abandoned catacombs from which you dwell.
Aching calls for blood you make.
�
Always cloaked from mortal sight,
ageless Count frigid in winters' night.
Alone ceasing finally to exist, I'll wait
and communicate freely with witches,
as cats find shelter in my wounds.

And conjure fairies we shall or
angels chilled from frostbite, but�
probably I'll lie naked on the floor by candlelight,
and I'll think of you
as cobwebs flicker in the moon light.
�
Acid cocktails, fluids spiked with life.
Autumn covered in frost with blankets of
dying leaves,
ancient coven formed beneath the misty trees.
Amble creature far too dear,
arise, come free me from this death.�
Ashes collapse, fires burn so bright.

Afraid, condemned forever...
" Awake Countess feel the crimson life
running through your veins. I've come for you,
your wait was not in vain."


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Written by: Proteusa
Inspired by Stabbing westward song� ACF
ACF