A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth

So Always to the Wise

Scorned by association

Asphyxiation by way of the lover’s fangs 

Paints a steamy picture, and makes the mona-lisa whole, sans one throat, an idea of a man, and the blessings they take away from those who transgress against Urizen.

I was rolling in the grass, a pale, soft thing with eyes of boiling ruby and you were 

The tiger that I tamed, burning bright like the archangel of sin himself dangled the the eternal lava of a child’s terrified imagination, so I sang a song of innocence to choke out all your experience, because Old Scratch can’t learn new tricks, but he can bob his head to any rhythm. 

And when they played the mist in, we were one person, a soul within a soul, but when they played it out we were as far apart as Abraham and the rich man.

There’s an end to every spell.

And I’ve already seen you in hell. 

Now, where do you see yourself in five years?