A man rests at its side, both needing and fearing
It’s wrath. The same as the notion of love,
It’s shape is a devouring plague of color.
–
The bearing of soul and the promise of pain
Lies in its wake, always coiled, always hungry.
A man rests at its side, both needing and fearing.
–
Eyes of passion see only affection, bonds of embrace
Tremble in the night air, bittersweet as the velvet chocolate.
It’s shape is a devouring plague of color.
–
Cruelty cackles at the victims for the need of pumping
Blood laced with the burning cold fingers of death.
A man rests at its side, both needing and fearing.
–
Water retreats to the crying of scattering spiders
As the warm comes with soundless steps.
It’s shape is a devouring plague of color.
–
Irony at its core as the fuel for the turning wheel
Of mortality with no pity, no bounds, and no regret.
It’s shape is a devouring plague of color.
A man rests at its side, both needing and fearing.