Late night illusions

It was child-like, petulant and angry -- the tiny voice that screamed 'No- it's mine! You can't have it!'

Defiance lined and broken upon a verbal whip that had no room for slack and mercy

Tongue tied, gagged, sweating, forced and cohered into knots
It was insincerity mixed with devotion and guilt; a simple fucking release
Addiction and self reliance upon the battered and abused
Release and knowledge to kneel and worship; ignored
'So it's time' he said, and so I came, dog to heel,
Grasping at nothing until nails were raw and bloody- gasps harried and rushed
Promise a burning ember and a silent slice in the shadow
A misunderstanding of the very breath it gave
The bleeding that ejected the raw and unwanted
The coiling serpent on milk and spared less on flesh
Thrashing veils lifted to stare beholden at the grasping golden goddess
With obsidian gazes and kohl lined souls

This this is... art. 

Poetry in motion;
Laid upon vivid tongues and prying fingers
A new form of Pulchritudinous
New metal wrapped inspiration