Back to Poetry Index


Haunted


From the panes a green mist swirls
Is it a shadow of reflection?
This apparition in moon beams bathed
A voice like wind through trees beckons

Cool rain on hot summer stone
The odour fills my presence
Of freshly dug grave and death and night
These things are her essence

Nocturnal mistress, sprit lover
Your mouth of wine and woodsmoke taste
My godess of the violet twilight
You are lust incarnate
In the sweat of my bed

The eastern sky hints of dawning
Alone and awake but exhausted I lie

Oh how I hate the morning


Written by Peter Steel, Type-O-Negative 1999
Art by Stephanie Pui-mun Law