Aura Noir – The Rape

Merry, you may be.

For I am the flesh in your tounge.

Create to yourself, images of these

glass-eyed figures,

and expose to me, your skin –

whorish as ever.

They speak to me, your pores, your veins,

in a rush of melancholy.

In a stream of misantrophy.

Remove the carpet, so I may be

united with the shades of these.

Blind my eyes,

still I will see – presence, visuality.

I grant you my pale hands,

still I will feel – shape, contoures.

Please leave.

In me you wont find any pity,

as the dog that howls for the light in my eyes –

the stench or your nakedness, no smell for a mourner like me.

So, please leave.

In here you won