Moonlust Wilderness

by Occult Fan



Cull the whor’d

The lost bloodshot rancor

the miserable poor

the blasted the blessless the bloodless the bastards

pour them in to a heap

and blend them to a drink

there is nothing worthless

tossed in to the kitchen sink

so let them blend

let them scream

let them panic

and vomit

and shriek

and when the word is said and done

I am the smoke

rising from the gun

I am the blood

at the foot

of the guillotine’s bouillon

and the worms or war

are red and won

coded and armisticed

every single

last one


for my fur still grows

and my teeth grin glow

smiles scyth’d in th style of th peckish

fluorid flowering

as we flow

to crown upon a blossom sound

we holy hold

the moving ground

no single syllable

uttered to break the spell