I'm clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight

that actually existed just in your head

your fingernails painted black

or bloodred

I forget



And your fake-leather volumes

jabbering on hell

manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail

your eyes tried so hard to glitter



A star-snuffing black

so you opened your books

and you opened your legs

and so opened your heart

and let in the badness

you claimed

as your friend

with un-angels hovering

like flies round the orchard

that had covered your soul

their empire increasing

and your country

deserted by yourself



The bells of St. Mary call us to remember

that life is with end

and the gestures can kill us

moreover destroy

and there is one jugdement only



Your letters came daily

in French or in German

but they meant to me nothing

I caught the slow cords

and dry ice fogging your mind

I see all too clearly now

why you should be discarded

and though I could pray for you

I probably shan't

having had my cup filled up

with your lies

and your makeup

you were nothing

thinking you're something



And nonetheless I still write this gothic lovesong

a sign to myself

and the memory of my past

I still write this gothic lovesong

and the memory of my past

and a way to shut out your face