Dragons Tithe

An Acolytes tithe, throat teeming and hands bound tight

Within this holy and sanctified crypt, sacrificial.

The wanton sow brimming with savoury’s delight,

For with in my potentiality, we feast on her tonight!

‘A consort’s tribute received with resurging adoration!

For such sweet suffering, could be painted on blank canvas!

Durations of which, relevant on her last view and exsanguination!

It continues struggle’s upturned pendulum, true pirouettes of relevance!

You have done well this night, my flighted aberration!’

With inspired license I commence my artistic homage.

Drawing swift and deep of this writhing aesthetic,

Revelling in the gaze of veracities haemorrhaging carnage,

Simpering quells, resistance once deemed pathetic,

My chalice is full, lifeforce of the oblation, my art theatrics.

‘Join me hence, my half-dismembered plaything,

Sup of her essence and join me in the banquet!

Absorb a creature’s life, hasten the deadening,

Abound in my mercy of Nosferatu’s dragon, my becoming!