Life trickles down,
such tumultuous glory; basking ever in its image;
for itself and only is the wine;
and the devil downs the cup.
Ah, the fragrant gulp; how madness soars,
just over the scarlet skies the Gods call pain and we familiarity,
a fine night to sell to the highest bidder;
ah yes, why not bid yourself on any night not quite so divine as this?
He whispers, slithering, its fine, its fine;
just a price, no vice, no vice
the scream, how it caresses him, entices him for more,
it flows, it flows, trickling around him
bathe in the agony, the gift of the divinity
life is but a temporary thing;
surely eating just one more time can not be such a very bad thing;
all those begging to be devoured, who just don't know it yet.
Sadness tastes the best; love too saccharine,
all too often the tastes blurred, hazing his vision;
but hearts lay, waiting to be shattered at the sweet arrival of dawn.
His job was done; but he was still hungry.
Perhaps disappointment was a better meal?
Na, he'd settle for a big mac.
Shit, were on Earth were his keys?