Sipping from a glass
wearing a false label -
dining with kings -
but at the wrong table.
It started off holy -
it started off right -
they never noticed
the light fading to night.
Girls in short skirts -
beauty of face,
added to the pride
that seeps in the place.
Take the stage,
forgetting who you are -
just wanna-be rock stars, worshipping guitars.

A twisted game of thoughts and words -
a spoil of broken dreams,
The certain uncertainty sure to come
of impulses bursting all seams.

Watching intently with growing lust -
taunting intentionally with fire,
a seductive play of raging will -
stroking the beast of desire.

Caged she is - but scopes the same -
though hunter she may be all wrong,
and the prey that she secretly hunts
is hunting her all along.

I'm waiting. Just sitting here waiting - watching....
Why? Because something is going to come out.
See that hole in the wall?
It's new, you see - the hole.
Busted in fresh just last week -
by Mrs. Crowley's head.
Oh yes, but before she rammed those demons into that wood
it was saturated, watered....fed...
With her screams - her cries....his lies...
It was filled fully as a glutton -
her life as its dessert.
Now a ragged, splintered gaping hole -
bits of wood litter the floor...
the other missing pieces are gone forever -
no doubt on a the mortician’s table
buried deep in her skull
She lost an eye, too -
poor thing.
She was already half blind.
Oh, but the tragedy
to have her own god steal her sight completely.
But not in vain – no, sir
It was for the darkness.
For now the hole watches me as I watch it -
it stole her eyes, as it stole his soul...
So I sit and watch and wait -
Waiting for it to lurk out of its dark corners -
in search of the next generation to destroy

The ghost-town within the soul,
eclipses of both sun and moon-
swallowed by hell's dark whole,
with all that's living consumed.

There is no feeling within the void,
the heart once broken now gone -
demons no longer sly and coy,
now openly play their song.

Empty rooms should induce a tear,
echoes of memories a cry,
but there is no feeling, no not here -
it left with no goodbye.

Just a graveyard in this town -
the demons are the one that stole
every feeling - good or bad -
in this ghost-town within the soul.

I am the Princesse Lointaine -
though you see me there
adored by many men
with all my flowing hair

wrapped around my shoulders bare
and a twinkle in my eye,
I smile for one the same as all
with my eyes as blue as sky

I needn't even really try
but they must if they desire
to catch my heart or fleeting glance
to catch my burning fire

Though to me they may aspire
their efforts win not my affection
For I am the Princesse Lointaine
I love only my beautiful reflection

I dwell within the Cave of Adullam:
many moons have I seen from its mouth,
nights in watch for demons that lurk
or serpents slithering about.

Shadows are my only visitors,
my mind my only dear friend;
I venture into the woods for food,
only to find I’ve never left my den.

The flesh I tear is tenderly raw,
savagely consuming its meat--
the soul of the Shadow dancing
is the delicacy I eat.

My wine is the life-blood it pours:
drinking greedily with my lips,
absorbing its dark understandings,
licking the mysteries as they drip,

I warm myself by the fire--
the fuel to my sanity, my grace,
granting me sweet pain one moment,
the next caressing my face.

But company and feast, the Shadow,
dies as the fire waxes cold--
now all alone in the Cave of Adullam,
with nothing but the darkness to hold.