Wednesday, March 11, 2009


by f-cynyr ©

You crossed the river Acheron
you paid with coins of pain
and tears, you surrendered
your flesh, sold your soul
for the voyage to the Promised Land.

Across the river Acheron, into the deep
unknown, you traveled to the furthest shore
you fell into torment you writhed in pain,
the exquisite agony of submission
enraptured you and you found your
Paradise in an Eden of pain.

And Charon the ferryman has brought you
to the darkness across the shadowy water
he has brought you through the starless night,
he has brought you to the wilderness of your soul.
His steady hand has led you to
this Promised Land.

And you embrace the fallen angels
you caress the great beast’s horn
this may appear to be Paradise
but lust has moistened your loins,
you have discovered the eroticism of
pain, you embrace the pleasurable
hurt. In your twisted passion you
have found that this Inferno is
your Promised Land.

You are amongst the fallen ones
who have tumbled to the depth
you have lost your innocence.
Now the pain has become pleasure
and the hurt has become tenderness.
Your spirit is in tatters, it has been
flailed to bloody shreds,
this is the Paradise of your soul
The Eden of your desire.

Your eyes now glow with want
your mouth waters and begs for more
you wrap the cloak of torment
around you, you fondle its every suffering.
You rub your aching loins against
the agony, until the torment is
tender and the agony is bliss.

You have crossed into the Inferno
into the forbidden land.
its burning woe courses in your veins
and its bottomless pools
of ache have swallowed your sight.
Your body surrenders to the pleasure of fire,
as its wet flames swallow your soul.

The gates of mystery have opened
your loins, Charon is now your Master
and you drop to your knees
in worship, then fall upon his phallus.
Cries and wails fill the air, your unholy
Voice singing the praise of the
sweet sweet taste of his exquisite pain.

You stand bound to St. Andrew’s cross,
loving the sacred lash, embracing
the epiphany of pain. Your cries and
wails fill the air with the rapture
of the consuming hurt.
The purity of the lashing takes you to the bliss
of the shores of the River Acheron

O you depraved soul, drinking
the ecstasy of torment, and swallowing
the grapes of pain, and through
your agony, you have redeemed
the Inferno and found a
new Promised Land.

In the darkness you wail,
your limitations fill the air.
Your agonized soul is
released from its cage of flesh
to flutter staggering into
the orgasm of bliss.

O Master O Master you pray, as your
mouth perofrms homage to the phallus,
And in your submission you
swallow the Sacrament, drinking
down the sweet white nectar.

Your soul meanders in bliss and grace,
your body finally mastered,
you drift in the thick black air, till
your body convulses and your dripping
loins find their release

In a moment you are spent
your lips quiver and twitch,
your ecstasy is the exquisite pain
that has taken you to the Inferno
and a Master’s hand has carried you
across the River Acheron,

And there on the shores
you have found your Eden
a land of pain and torment that
is your Promised Land.