The Black Light District






Never been to the Black Light District
Howbeit, for thee I would make uninvited exception
If you were to perish by your own initiative
Then I would be on hand to damn your next conception
Your abhorrent form before me it commands my due attention
And there is not one thing divine about the intervention I have planned


You sow your spoiled seedlings within the most unholy lands
Harvesting your crops of grand deception
Staking claim on that which you believe to understand
That beyond the shallows of your nearsighted perception


As your eyes roll back to moonstone
They doth cast no true sincere reflection
Misted marbles drifting in a listless sea of blisslessly aware glare of infection


Thrifty with thine shifting verse
This long black limousine shalt be thine endless dying hearse
Ever been wide awake at thine own wake
Never owned a soul to take for weightless is thy curse
Actions illustrate far greater dictation than words
For one lost in translation
It is keener neither to be seen or heard


Never been to the Black Light District
Howbeit, for thee I would agree to disagree
With the part of me departed from the art of cast redemption
With hammer and orbitoclast
Shalt chip away
Replace each thought thine entertain with bitter last
Station the flag of thine dark nation at half mast
While black rose petals fall to pend regretful drool of last


Never passed decree on one so impotent of class
Far be it from me to wear sympathy when the penalty is in thine hands with every last stone cast
This bed of blackened rosehips is thine ossuary to rot within
In everlasting atrophy for malefaction unsurpassed
Evil speaks and diabolic word it travels lightning fast
Bridges burned
Can’t clench the flame
Of fury quite so vast


As your eyes roll back to moonstone
Both dyslectic and opaque
I suggest thee get acquainted
With the far less hazed and cryptic gaze of stark Cimmerian shade
Thine feeble hand hath long since been played
Thine feckless fate hath been self-made
Never been to the Black Light District
But I hear it is not so far away
Could head there on the astral plane
Or maybe pay a little visit
Should I be feeling particularly playful


Advance headlong on headstrong course
And not a fraught remorseful thought will ever be court quite the same
Leaping at shadows as you swing from the gallows in the very most harrowing of wicked little games
Bridges burned
Or lesson learned
Damnation either way
Now pray tell, doth thine still desire to play?
Or need black knight move bluntly just to shunt thee into Checkmate?






Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of The Crimson Quill





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