Beneath the embers of desolate decadence
The silky lines of sensuous splendor speak
My heart a catacomb of repentence
A catechism they blather so bleak
I falter, but now I see
Only ruled by the fuse of an enchanting farse
Once fooled by the ruse of an unruly spark
Relegated to the minions of a November parse
The ashes of ages which have led us to embark
I falter, but now we seek
A seraphim's sweet serenade accentuates
Singular eyes coursing jagged oblivion
A seamless shard of time still resonates
Amid the delicate inferno of our tourniquet religion
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