(1)

Blessed is Death to be placed upon the

throne of a dying castle emptied at the edge of a foreign sea.

Lustful hymns of a virgin shore,

The beauty of unknown purity distracts a sullen fetish to a king who has never slept;

Who has never dreamed!

(The beauty of repugnance sullenly distracts each/the fetish tied to a king who has never slept;)

(who has never dreamed!)

Morose is this heathen ruler, honored to govern a lurid bastion

(Endlessly — nay…)

Forsakenly cast to bottomless waters where

Even purgatory seems to seek heavens graveyard. (purgatory/torpor anxiously paddles away from.

The sight of The Kings dying sun is absolved to the distance.

Burrowing towards colorless dunes, voiceless streams allure the uncrowned king!

Ripples rumbling amongst tremors floating above paint tears trailing off

The warming sun floating away from a king

Waves flung against each other dance to rhythms

Floating away in solace as dunes of mystery spread for His Majesty

(2)

No finer darkness than what roots beneathe the underworld has ever known life

Nor has any trace of flesh and garished bones voyaged beside

The kings castle.

—sinking past the rigid fog of a withering dawn

Burrowed deep amongst the abyss, endlessly sinking through bottomless currents.

Null tides embrace his majestys lifeless province as it now hinders/drowns barren streams;

A withering region of sea welcomes the emporerer  who reigns the foul paradise.

Fashioned in lurid seashell and seamed by withering pagodas,

Fragile echoes of any foot pressed through these halls

(A kingdom smothered with colorless sea shells and coral tucked intimately to the cracks laced among the floors and the walls

–to wander the hallways of a kingdom ^^^^

He dares not dance in his blending halls to be met, sadly, by the echo of no one/no other/his lonesomeness.

Rains of brass petals shower the castles pathways,

Which are crowned in rare skeletal mulloska.

Whispers and memories laugh while coral reef mortar becomes the beating heart of his kingdom;

A vile sound! A tone so horrid disgust rages war against him!

Betrayal glares upon his majesty,

As the castle makes a slave of him, he regrets the pleasure the altar honored him.

As does his hidden mouth fear to break open, only/ to sing angelic hyms/paeans/melodies of a shore he may never witness.

Vacant hallways trampled in colorless pagodas, withering ivy, and soft rooms  raging virgin corals shells silenced  stale tears watered by –forged in Babylon-like artistry

The king to obstain his melancholy.

And soft rooms interwoven in rich coral and virgin sea shells; a fading beauty, dying evermore again.

Coral reef mortar and hugged by virgin shell epoxy

….and coalesced by virgin shells ; a paradise teeming with diseased eachoes, whispering throughout the endless towers of his kingdom

(3)

The unyielding strength of winter, day by day and nothing more, stain the murky depths.

Forever; in cold still currents too sunken to travel, (screams widely riding a luminious beast)) Egear for the day his throne is dismembered and he may never know unrest again.

Gleamless is the marvelous shrine slowly chewed by ugly wrethes and poison vines.

He frantically begs for a grave deep enough to dismantle the shelled walls of his castle; when the full moon dances naked, and only in his death, do the remnants of his unknown war kiss the shores across the lands he dreamt to sleep beside.

A vast, yet empty/abandoned/hollow,kingdom molded of jaded memories, gifted to sink

Endlessly amongst the abyss. Further does his majesty burrow, too, beside his

lifeless province.

Motionless, sickenly cold, and blacked currents encompass the withering empire.

Nothingness cursed to reflect morose fantasies taunt observers,

Even his majesty turns against the deception held amongst his skies.

Plastered in colorless seashells, battered coral, and withering pagodas.

The halls echo wholesomely the adventure his royal towers honor.

A bastion, of which the ruler ages, rooted through clutches of sick weeds; a diamond flourishing along empty currents in forgotten puragorty.

-under the tremors of a seasonless garden

—there, where sea creatures danced by joining hands to a damsals waves, where weeds sprouted as a gift among the caves.

Vacant hallways trampled by dismal pagodas and withering

His majesty’s royal towers, stiffened with heathens blood, sink above the murky abyss.

The garden spreads a scent bathed in poison His majesty

Fears to bury any contour only to bear witness a malice beast

Tediously he pours stale tears to dispel the melancholy of a lonesome paradise.

—dismal/morose

Vacant hallways trampled in colorless pagodas, and walls painted by the(rigid corals shells silenced ) stale tears watered by

The king to obstain/dispel his melancholy.

The lonely tower fanes tall to encircle the shadows, for he only knows the bond of another by their grave.

(2)The sweet sounds of an unwalked shore, the beauty of unknown purity remains a fetish for a king who has never slept; who has never dreamed.

(3) The kings castle, too, is plagued with restlessness. Ugly, yet attractive to the king, his castles burrow to depths the underworld hides in graveyards.

A kingdom smothered with colorless sea shells and coral tucked intimately to the cracks laced among the floors and the walls. Withering roses painted in thorns peek off the corners of his endless halls, but they remain still for no motion breathes in depths so sunken in the sea he has been gifted.

He dares not dance in his blending halls to be met, sadly, by the echo of no one/no other.

As does his hidden mouth fear to break open, only to sing angelic hyms of a shore he may never witness.

The unyielding strength of winter, day by day and nothing more, stain the murky depths.

He sits, motionless,

Forever; in cold still currents too sunken to travel, (screams widely riding a luminious beast)) Egear for the day his throne is dismembered and he may never know unrest again.

Gleamless is the marvelous shrine slowly chewed by ugly wrethes and poison vines.

He frantically begs for a grave deep enough to dismantle the shelled walls of his castle; when the full moon dances naked, and only in his death, do the remnants of his unknown war kiss the shores across the lands he dreamt to sleep beside.

A colorless/hollow kingdom impeccably molded by the bottomless waters; sinks deeper by the weight of the seas tales only Death has been told, and sicken him they do, and tarnish the throne horrily worshipped.

The echo of a shell pressed against any curious ear is the roar of a kings defeat; a pain utterly terrifying -even gods feared- it lingers forever . (they granted his shattering remains to lay beside the shore)

the array of shells lay dormant, cautiously tormenting the king with eachoes of his footsteps; too soon have the magots between the walls mimic the whispers of his thoughts. A sea, luminious only in death, now hinders the lies off the lips of a king ruling a paradise of an eternal quagmire.

The dead body of a drowing tide illuminates his sky, the towers too sink above into the graveyard.

forsankenly lost below the tides, the gift of lifeless currents made love across his body. A shameful monument his sky became. Adoration once ushered over his eyes, and he felt the sand pressed inside his bones spill from his ovarices when he peered to his sky.

His walkway, fashioned in corals and shells of richness sands have yet to taste; the paradise of ill flowers, the scent of tenancious ivy wrapping through the folds of the coral walls and pathways; death beseeched to his throne, ill-fated to witness the decay of all he governs

Vacant hallways trampled in colorless pagodas, withering ivy, and soft rooms  raging virgin corals shells silenced  stale tears watered by –forged in Babylon-like artistry

The king to obstain his melancholy.

And soft rooms interwoven in rich coral and virgin sea shells; a fading beauty, dying evermore again.

Coral reef mortar and hugged by virgin shell epoxy

….and coalesced by virgin shells ; a paradise teeming with diseased eachoes, whispering throughout the endless towers of his kingdom.

The bottomless secrets underneath null tides anchor the kingdom of fragil coral beneath the abysmal garden

The stretching towers climbed high as a mysterious cypress into the heavens. His towers, however, clamoured beside their bitterness and sank above into the nothingness surrounding the kingdom. The warmth of day nor lurid gleams of the night danced with the abyss encircling him. It soon haunted him, as the abyss reflected all he was to never recognize.

His garden is vast, yet unconscious. Fool is anyone touched by curiosity to step upon a garden worms fear to slither among. The king monitors his curiosity and murders any thought to bury a seed in fear something more dangerous than the abyss will claw through it’s tar.

Dragging in pathways even gods do not speak, lower than a mast birds yearn to voyage.

—-ending——

Goddess of the sea, silk matron of mystery, tasked as guardian of secrets,

now unclothed in her virgin body for the king of apathy!

She, too, knows disgust as her efforts to mask regret have anchored.

The regret this maiden harbors breathes amongst shallow floors of never.

What was once a youthful empress of calm healing,

Now a feeble witch coined within a rancid body.

These depths harbor all horrid secrets,

Far too vulgar to ever be unearth/acknowledged.

Derelict sun, once bundling atop the valleys cliff in the distance, fickles past an uncrowned king.

A hue abandoned of color surface

Low beneathe layers of dark hues and voiceless ripples breathe secrets never to be heard.

Hidden from the world, for reasons now honored by his majesty!

Secrets leering amongst violent roots.

Creatures no myth describes haunts

For each (violent secrets – are seen parading off layers of roots) secret toiling/parading(off layers of roots) it’s way off layers of roots is visible

Sacred beasts of miserable truths

Embodied in agony so great darkness struggles to anchor them to mystery

Dangerous secrets, brooding a whimpering truth,

Wrapped in dying floors of a cold sea blackness fails to hide.

Haunted floors, blooming thorn covered roots, savage the murmuring secrets eager to be known

Hollowed bodies emptied of their gnosticim endlessly dispel redness across hidden dunes.

Sands of divine wine, crying off wounds of wisdom never to be known, taint truths homeland

Nothing more disgusting knows breathe, even darkness fails to smother/disguise these beast;

Shackled below the veil of light, torment has made folly of them as “lots” scower for ears loving enough to hear their terrible messages.

Wings peeling off clawed/beaten shoulders sadly van the swaying briar.

Uncrowned and lonesome King, guardian of horrors, now trembling in the distance.

No greater horror has been seen!

“filled” with truths so vile the gods themselves have removed them from sight, darkness flutters away

Cruelty dances with the king as his kingdom finds rest amongst a rooting valley.

Regret fondles “large bedroom windows”, for all awakening days are met with fields

teeming in all promised to forgetfulness

Majesty of agony, soon to join the mystery never to be discovered.

Never has silence he keeps made music of the cruelty he now aches to absolve.

There is no grave deeper than the castle he now bows to.

The throat agonizingly remains sealed

Sand pours off his eyes, and grows sick to know he may never shed a tear of pain.

Damned to reside in a hideous shrine, his sanctuary

Now rich in life agony plunges

Wickedness slithers throughout the laughters festered upon the architecture.

If this cunning creature,

Stitched in eachoes and lanquid wreathes,

Torments the profligate with unforgiving sorrow, striking the

His vision pierced me, now lifeless yet strangely filled with gratitude. The peasants cold eyes did not discomfort me.

The sun drew beyond the deck of our kingdoms mountains. A burning illness made love as it swam around my bones. My hands poured his wine off my nails, I glared in awe to recognize my palms and fingers no longer seemed delicate. Thre precious honor of my fingers have eaten off the plate of fear. Never has a substance of such filth spread it’s tongue through my hands.

The roar which had festered my innocence clawed it’s way to freedom. It escaped me and spread in a disgusting violence the sun ran beneath the mountains for even our sun felt cowardly. The moon, full and fashioned in virgin skin, observed each moment of my tragedy. She never peered away from my body. I laughed, yet Luna cried, as her garments made a symphony of my kingdom. What cruel persuation she bestows, for she once was/ is the maiden desparate to dissolve my anxieties into forgotten memories. Her glowing sheet cloaks, now, only my consequences. These torn rags that dim my kingdom in filth sicken me. Nothing but fading colors fall to the surface of my streets;

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