cradle of filth

THE FOREST WHISPERS MY NAME1

black candles dance to an overture
but I am drawn past their flickering lure
to the breathing forest that surrounds the room where the vigilant trees push out of the womb

I sip the blood-red wine
my thoughts weigh heavy with the burden of time from knowledge drunk from the fountain of life from chaos born out of love and the scythe the forest beckons with her nocturnal call to pull me close amid the baying of wolves where the bindings of christ are down-trodden with scorn in the dark, odiferous earth...