Within the seaming of a blackened
 Lithograph
This is what I have secretly dreamed of
Necrophelia of the most bittersweet way
Clasped together in the anti-matter blast
Frozen in time now there is no past

Or perhaps more likely in the House of Deaths' Eclipse
Passing timeless shadowed seasons in secrecy with her rise and fall
Fuliginous etchings traced before my eyes
With all eternity to become acquainted
With the kingdoms and characters therein

A led candle replete with skulls
An altar of the deaths' head war god
A mirror flanked by sword-bearing maidens
Beckoning me into the depths of darkness
 Self

Taking me upon the landing she goes
And dragging me all throughout the house
Doing as she will with my conscious corpse
And all that is left is the cthonic creep
 Of forevermore
  And fantasies
   Fulfilled