Horror of the Soul Cauldron

my body disappears as the moon blooms all romance.

I don't fucking care about her ambitions for us,

as I sway on the gallows.

 

I may never see our unborn son become a  man and her copper hair turn white  like a snow rose.

I choose to be alone,

locked away inside my haunted mind.

I chose to  be what you despair and the seasons are

mirages to bring catastrophe to her worn soul.

I know she dreams of me but I distaste the wine form her womb.

Down on the road of nightmares,

her screams fade behind as I chose to hate.

 

I chose to be in the surgical steel tomb,

away from the ethereal arms of a lover.

I chose to be lost in the fog of darkness and I feel the need to mutilate my scar,

drinking my blood for health.

My woe is bone deep as the still voices from the present declares me an outcast.

I don't care if she wants or  needs me.

She can deteriorate on the cross,

I don't want to be free in her love.

 

Life is a perverse version of death.