the oubliette from four deaths by Everson Poe

the walls of this castle
cannot acquiesce
to contain the multitude
of your sins
but the stones of its passages
remain fortified enough
to imprison me
in this oubliette

the moss grows thick upon these walls
illuminated by the moon
a witch’s breath will i now draw
a spell to free me from this tomb

make me the object of your wrath
give unto me your hidden rage
i will become the thing you fear
as you begin to rot with age
a secret known to precious few
and given shape by your desire
the magics harnessed in my veins
will bring the death that you require

savage
sacred

coven
sanguine
heathen
demon

we summon forth
our mother’s swollen womb
to birth salvation
to bring about your doom
among the trees
our magic, ancient rites
unearthly demon
infect them with your blight

sanctity defiled
sacrament in spite
purity of spirit
prurient delight

transcend the boundaries of our flesh

our fate was never set in stone

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