The Awakening

Awakened after the destruction of the love temple.I am a harlot. A charlatan. I am a beggar seeking refuge under the alms of your outstretched body. So frivolous yet cunningly benevolent. Windmills of your vagabond poison will damage the threads of my soul in peace. A destruction so sweet and so shameless. It will occur on the day of the chameleon moon and phoenix sun. And this pagan surrender will cease to be fleshed and blooded. Like a brittle page of prophecy upon gypsy lips. Skirts of wonderment and finger nailed hands with the murder of dreams upon their brow. I'm waiting.To crumble within the opera of black lidded inner asylums.Some souls never heal.They wear skeletons of feeling.