We are nearly one with midnight,
We are saturated with the absence of light.
Once we sought salvation,
There is no escape from this thick black,
There is a path beneath us,
The cobbled road like braille beneath our feet,
It plummets into another kind of heaven,
A heaven of pleasurable pain,
A sacred dungeon of lovely sin.
Hear the whip crack,
Smell the scent of leather and blood,
The ecstatic cried of lovers and subordinates.
There she is, a demoness dressed in pink,
Heels like daggers, leather tails, a sadistic smile.
I have arrived. It is here. This is the hour.
It is midnight.