A Mephitic Jihad

In dulcet wanton upon a crescent-lit night, across sin-towered deserts in radiant blight, a riot of stars synced on breasts that fed our effigies to Jerusalem so kindly led; traveling far from the comforting seas on storming horses that grew with unease in the desert's maw with scimitars drawn, plundered by the lips of a sinuous storm.