SANGUINE SORROW OF A PROFANE HEART

•Intentions are like incantations•

Sorrowful be the profane

and crimson red tears fall

like bittersweet bon bons

from the high heavens again.

Consecrating this soil

oh bull-faced lover

as we come together in piety

despite all differences of you and me.

Do you not know?

How there be such love for thee?

Buried beneath the bloodied roots

of a profane's family tree

aprés la mort

melancholy remains

praise the lord

memory sustains

The Sanguine Sorrow Of A Profane Heart.

But once again I agree

never to forget the lessons you impart

as an odd sense of comfort washes over me.