No more I'd wish to think,
Even less I would require-
A furnishing of sin
For this carnal desire
And even less I'd ponder
No more could I judge,
Significance be less
No more than a nudge
Under laces tied tight
A fire forever worn,
Within loins of amethyst
Bastard children to be born
A pointlessness of sultry
What my beast would pursue,
The Poison is the pinnacle
Of what a soul would consume
But the eyes bleed less
Than the heart; far more blind
Binding by the sound of-
Heartstrings well refined
With every chorus a whisper
To Mephistopheles' Choir,
And every pint of love,
Would be inferred and required
I drink to the nights when the charades
Felt like reality within a heart,
And toast to the most moist waves
Where faith and reason avidly depart
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