Rise of the Pentagram

One dark afternoon like a shadow I flew through the rain that fell sick with lament to this house of incest, for when we undressed, blasphemies against Venus were rent. Though her sister removed, her white body approved the barade of my heavenly quests. Yet all tongues are not true, some are forked or askew like an uncivil serpent's at best. For ousted from Eden I fausted all reason, hook in mouth like Saint Peter Pan. To horned fairy groves and hot virgin coves where in the promiscuous swam. I elected lovers and rejected others, Mathistrises that don't give a damn. But for those that still do my deep interest grew. The rise of the true pentagram!