Boots in the ossuary, gloves on a rusted chain; dust rose like old communion from velvets time had paled. Skulls in their narrow chapels, silk on the saints worn through; the air was old as murder, and I wanted what it knew. Show me the rune beneath your tongue, show me the secret, show me the one; I’ve kissed the dark but I’m not done, I need the abyss - and then some. I want more, more, moonlit catacombs; I want more, more, let the hidden come home. I want more, more, black silk on my bones; I want more, more, take me where they won’t go. Gold in the mouth of angels, pearls in the sockets of saints; every jewel was a faceted lie with a dead girl’s name erased. Maps in a priest’s old cipher, keys in a knighted hand; but under the king’s inscription something older still may stand. Show me the rune beneath your tongue, show me the secret, show me the one; I’ve kissed the dark but I’m not done, I need the abyss…and then some. I want more, more, open every door; I want more, more, give me the forbidden. I want more, more, under the marble floor; I want more, more, tell me what was hidden. I broke the seal on the reliquary, I read what the silver missed; a root wound under the altar stone, a serpent under the kiss. They called it sin in the daylight, they called it dust below; but the moon knew where the name was kept, and the moon told me to go. Not for the crown, not for the gold, not for the hand that locked the tomb; I came for the voice they folded away and buried beneath the room. Not for the saint, not for the king, not for the prayer they taught the choir; I came for the dark that remembered her before they renamed the fire. I want more, more, moonlit catacombs; I want more, more, let the hidden come home. I want more, more, past the blood and bone; I want more, more, take me where they won’t go. Every door opened downward, every stair wanted blood; every truth wore another truth like a veil beneath the mud. I found no end to the hunger, I found no floor to the night; only a mouth in the oldest dark that incanted, “You were right.” I want more, more, moonlit catacombs; I want more, more, let the hidden come home. Beneath the saint, beneath the king, beneath the mouth that named the sin, I heard the first dark mother sing: “Come farther in. Come farther in.” I want more, more, black silk on my bones; I want more, more, take me where they won’t go. I want more, more, open every door; I want more, more, I will not stop at the lie anymore. I want more I want more
