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.