PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The satanic sky strikes twelve by the malignant moon-dial

The tragic time has come to commence the taboo torture and forbidden fun

A slithering serpent and a static saint silently sin between the chastised church aisles

A nocturnal, narcissistic necrophiliac finds nectarous nourishment and nurture from a numb, naive, naked nun



Her eyes are glazed over, but her hair is still rapidly growing

The wicked worms crawl all over her cold corpse underneath the sadistic shades of black and gray

Her contaminated carcass is dull, but her essence and spirit are grotesquely glowing

Buried in his brain, he believes that the most beautiful body is one beginning to decompose and decay



Rip that horrid habit right off her hallowed head and hurl it into the hottest layers of Hell

He wordlessly whispers in her ear. “If you want me to stop, just simply say so”

Uncontrollably drooling over his own dilapidating demise as the Devils’ devious dogs salivate to the sound of a betraying bell

He takes a savory bite from the flavorless, forbidden fruit as through the lackadaisical, leafless trees, the wind stridently whispers “no”



Toxic tears of turmoil freefall from the livid lunar light onto her unblinking, arid eye

Shed some pseudo sorrow as Satan’s fiery finger flips the commanding kill switch

These deceiving drops of despair rolling down her pale cheek almost make her appear as if she is actually alive

Abhorrent acts of atrocity have wretchedly warped this innocent angel into a woeful witch



Tarnish the toxic tunic while transforming transparency into tragedy

Feel the frigid fear freeze on her flaccid face as she exhales her final cherished breath

Purity perpetually perishes and virtuousness vanishes six feet under the disgusting debris

Wave “farewell” to forever as she forfeits her vocation of vows and dies her second death



“It’s naughty, very naughty necrophilia,” Gnarls Barkley would soulfully sing

Edgar Allan Poe would also eagerly agree with every single inspired sentence and word that has just been jotted down and said

A sorrowful story of a quintessential queen forever fallen victim to an uncrowned, corrupted king

She died still a virgin, but deceased…she is now merely his dirty, diabolical, horrid whore in a bloodstained burial bed