Cryptics' Fabled Tales

Taketh to bed

Look me up when you reach the higher level,

slowly – slip under dirty covers disheveled,

any can take disguise; if you shall take on the devil –

Be minded; usually less wise by arms baring soot swaddled,

such a naivety fouler when desires dominate senses once handled,

harshness rests none concerned as another has heart cradled;

Semblance of one from reflective past has reached the edge,

flung crapulent sorrow out like heavy weighted stones instead,

exonerate more so than depression poisoning your weary head,

then by all means: go ahead – heave it down; down; down –

No hesitation piercing above scalding liquid slurping up on skin; awful resound,

decaying surrounds,

a fixated hound:

which wishes nothing more than to feast blown eyes as you drown –

satisfaction will not yet be met with an effortless persuaded task,

speak volumes even if vowels are spewing of profane crass,

one as yourself has mastered the language of sass –

sweep by toiling carcass,

this is a mere trial that one must surpass;

make soul revel,

earned rights to blare your triumphant heckle,

look upon me as hand waves for acknowledgment towards higher level,

flush back sheets we've had the pleasure to dishevel,

for the lover bedded was indeed the devil.