The Rape - Aura Noir

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 won’t 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 wonÂ¥t find any pity

Tour kisses were as hell itself

Be silent, for I am the flesh in your tounge

Only I can wear vast costumes of time, and still be present

«So, hereby I rape thee.»