By Magnus Bäcklund
As darkness seeps out to play
The blind twin gods forgotten
Whisper through the cracks of mind
Of the flesh bereaved and rotten
Smear each thread of dream with bile
Blessing cheeks with sadness
Bringing forth all that is wicked and vile
Until all that is left is madness
The serpent coiled ‘round twisted spine
Retreats down to the roots
The poisoned cup that should be wine
fermented forbidden fruits
It screams as it falls, It who once was man
As rot reaps muscle and bone
An outstretched desperate bony hand
In the end it dies alone