Fugue state among Pompeii's fumes
I have prayed to the glory!
Blessed Mary speak my name.
Holocaust, plummet below.
Blood in the ash, burnt and built.

Bahamut, splinter my ribs into dust.
Carve your scripture into my scalped skullcap.
Brand me with the shame of fool-hearted lust.
Tear me limb from limb in your tangled trap.
Spit my name into the annals of Hell.

"Spin the wheel!" cries the rat in his tin cage.
While the shopkeep sits, polishing his rage.

A sunbeam tans the hide.
It crusts the blood to scab.
The flesh and marrow dried.

Pour absinthe on the wound.
Scalp the ***** to bone.
The rest will be consumed.

A final cracked tongue lolls.
It waits the vulture's eye.
They've reached the final cull.

I may not know what the future holds.
But I love you now,
and that's good enough for me.

Away at arm's length sat the window pane.
Thoughts glistened, staring into my mind's eye.
And I stared back, and whispered in hushed tones.
Nothings, noises lost to the shifting sands.

But perhaps unearthed one day we shall sit.
Hand in hand, piece by piece, we too may wilt,
but wilt together, wilt at peace, by peace.
So hush now and let us embrace the beast.