Cum Kingdom Come
Under the pulpit, shadows fall, sanctuary awash in sweat and moan
A tabernacle transformed to dungeon, flesh worshipped,
rules overthrown.She kneels in nothing but hunger,
wrists bound with rosary beads
His hand anointed by her spit,
a sacrament only the broken need.He whispers dogma in a guttural growl,
cock stiff as a crucifix
Her thighs parted in prayer, her breath a psalm of filth and risk.Angels above,
blind and gagged, arch their backs and choke on song
Demons slip between stained glass cracks,
licking the saints all night long.Every thrust a blasphemy,
every scream a kind of faith
Sweat and cum anoint the pews
where orphans once knelt in grace.The congregation is all mouths
and open hands,“Forgive us our trespasses”—as
she grinds against the altar’s brand.
They turn the nave into a dungeon, organ pipes vibrate with sin
Every echo is a blessing, every squirt a hymn.He pounds her ass on the pulpit,
she rides his face on the cross
Worship is a safe word, salvation is getting lost.He writes new
gospels with his tongue, drags forgiveness through her slit
Her whimpers are a gospel, her gasps a sacred writ.The incense is hash
and burning hair, the offering is spit and come
He drives redemption into her hole, and she moans out, “Kingdom come.”No guilt,
no guilt, just rhythm and whine, no shame in her obscene delight
The archangels film every angle,
upload it for the holy night.The congregation pays in Bitcoin,
salvation is paid by the hour
Every bell a nipple clamp, every candle a dirty shower.
His cock drips mercy, her mouth gives thanks, the tabernacle runs with juice
She’s the Magdalene with a cunt like fire,
his tongue the holy noose.No more confessions, only flesh—no more shame,
only grace
The only guilt is missing out, the only curse is hiding face.They call her whore,
they call him beast, but every prayer ends in scream
The church is a brothel now, and God’s just the livestream.Let them judge,
let them clutch their pearls, let the virgins mourn the fall
She rides his cock with a martyr’s grin, makes them kneel,
makes them crawl.“Deliver us from boredom,” she laughs,
and the angels start to squirt
Every drop a new devotion, every bruise a sacred hurt.She knows
what redemption feels like, it’s the grip of her thighs on skin
He fucks her to glory, she cums to the end,
and that’s where the real faith begins.
On Monday morning, stained sheets cool, the world returns to lies
But behind stained glass, in sweat and spit,
the sacred truth survives.Let them sing about the afterlife,
let them sell their guilt for free—She takes communion on her knees
and baptizes her in ecstasy.This is no shame, no sin, no trick,
no mask—This is holy, this is haunted,
this is paradise unasked.They came in fear and left in peace,
their prayers all drowned in flood
And washed the world in sacred cum, and left no room for blood.