Dark Demon Roast

Holding cup & saucer
containing its tainted mud
black & thick as African ink
with 72 (un)natural spices-
roasting, roasting, raise to toast
to the tide, to evoke an infernal seal
imprinted as a stain-
registered as gut reaction-
reaching out to no One
in the raven circle abyss, dreary
in solitary, Imp-ious nature-
a starless kiss, livid-
as it stretches across lips
for the final, funereal finale-
no morning, the spotless white
so saintly lucid, no mourning-
all with just a sip of Goetia coffee
from Solomon's very vein.