Baphomet Feelings

Kiss your face with blood-dripped lips,

Seizing time with balanced thought,

I take it as my own.

At the bottom of this hollow place,

My heart grows,

Beating faster at the sound of your voice,

Knowing you are responding to me,

It is my wish to fall this way,

I am comforted through the beast of understanding,

It is my pet,

I care for it well,

To it,

I throw the weak souls of others,

I feed this passion their mistakes and make right,

There is a time to deal with it.

My horns are sharp,

They hold thousands waiting to be fed,

Through their heart they are tied to them,

I pull one at a time for their medicine,

De-worming of the soul,

The white lies and hate wriggle out their mouths quivering at truth,

I grab hold and keep them in the jars of my mind,

They are my souvenirs.