Messe Noire: The Sisters Summon

Sweet dreams
Land of spiders
One old Crone
Mouth of pliers.
Take backbone
Cease all fire
Thread the hair
Moving mire.
Forage meadow
Nude we haunt
Broken twig,
Betwixt the spawn.
Laughing shroud
Sun light dials
Crystal cheeks
Broken smile.
Write en mass
Engulfed in black
Thrashings come
Fifty lash.
Sabbath psalm
Quench the king
Cut the lamb
Raise the beast,
Form a circle
Drip the snail
Crush the teeth
Then the shell.
Salt the wound
Mix in mouth
Bind the mirror
And from this ground;
Dig a hole
Lift the skull
Take the legs
Cusp the bull,
Reach the arms
Pull them up
A drop of blood
And wicked tongue.
Shriek to sky
Howl at moon
Salems gone
Our coven grew.
Dance en flight
Murmer song,
Balmy tides
From fragrant swamp.
Gravers dug
Unhallowed tomb
We pull our sister
With Oxen hooves.
Dress with scales
Decompose.
She walks again
In Frocken robes.
Avaunt! This night
Trailed Wispen Orbs
She takes her place
On Western point.