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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4554 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Decadence Jeff Meyer O! Decadence, whose sick-sweet slumber Lies even on the holiest of hearts, Why come thou to my bedchamber at night; Holding in thy hand four keys— One for you and thrain for me— Bedazzling me with charms I cannot fight? Make love to me on a bed of nails; Comfort me with the poison of thy lips. Whisper to me of sleepless nights ahead, Hold me in your sour embrace As unholy rites we trace And transgress to the pathways of the dead. Ah, would that you were but a wicked dream! And I could wake and be a better man; The straight road would be easier to see And maybe dreams would not fall down like sand. But this night we wrestle once again And in the end I’m weaker; you will win. And take your key and bind my chains so tight, And whisper of your sisters, How in your name I’ll kiss her, You leave me burning once more in the night. And in the morning what image see I? The face of a man no longer eager To face loathsome days, the question why; The man seems sadder, and so much weaker. A heart that’s tainted, A soul that’s drained. A night of fiction: A love that’s feigned. |
