Chimerical verses of a hybrid poem

In the night when the moonlight sparkles our faces
Under the candlelight where shadows are melting
We are in love with vile spin puns
With needles of birds that curl up thoughts
Corpses of martyrdom echoed in the valleys
Lakes made of wounds and thorns under fingertips
Opposite to us there is always an electric chair
And the pillars have worn their straw huts
Inside the screen where eyes are whipped
In the cage where silence still captures
And the nut we crack leaves a sense of gap
Transcending us clouds to elephant hedges
While we travel on board a ghost ship
Love is a word with no horns to the letter
The chest of the Minotaur is grazed by virgins.