The crown of Lucifer

The feet of graves.

To know your names.

Where none dare walk I saw the sulphuric tides.

A bits of shadows lick the tick of times.

A rich swallowed dangers nick.

The sick retributions stick.

Of his solitude I share my soul.

Stacked duty stoned beauty the dire mold.

To search the scattered swat of torment.

Assured saturated laughs of lore lied dormant.

The sticker doll.

Polls of radiated cold.

Litter posed latter shallow host.

In squadrons of later lashed coast.

The insipid venture of pride.

To which a dark and you must hide.

A dared insulted rarity of mind.

The tick-tack reality behind.

In what fashion to you mend sorrow.

Upon the tosh face of spirits borrowed.

The gates were closed.

Vile gets the pretty posed.

The wilder it gets.

The more pets.

Wake their faith blindly.

Great their friends kindly.

No saturated guilt of frames.

In their housed dames.

The friction feigned reasons more.

Shallow faces close the door.

To whom of which I spoke.

The dreams gone in a poke.

Of wild tendencies paper habits.

There present in hell a window sill fits.

The narrow flames voice.

The freedom vanes choice.

Consequence.

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