Even he was envious of her solitude. She was never not cloaked in the warmth of her own bubble. She was consoled in a demure susurrus, and never missed a kiss with the mist of air, alluring every inch of her body to coalesce with ethereality. Her skin shivered. So did his. How did the stillness linger amidst the commotion, the row, the function? It was inevitable. He almost believed she was only a feast for the sightseers, a prey for those who despised idleness at night. But good God, did she move! Did she swing her fingertips in a melodious number! Did she blink her emeralds to blind those with unfortunate, degraded gems! And did she turn to look and lift the corners of her lips, into a form that could be misconstrued, both if it were and were not responded! And did his body defy his mind, when he could only see her go, and witness his failure to speak and his success to listen. And did his mind defy his heart, when the path to his love was obstructed by the thoughts of no one but his own.

I listen to the sound of my fate as it pours out of the bottle. At last the pressure can escape. Breathing a sigh of relief that would meet the clouds with gentle licks. I am seated at the edge of my own precipice and at the bottom is a river. Ready to carry me down a tumultuous pass to the sandy peroxide foamy waves that exfoliate my sins.
Scout the bottom of the ocean for my heart,
You will find it throbbing like your eardrums in the auricle of a conch shell
You will hear the sound of my voice
And feel the grit of sand as you clench down your teeth
The water dries around my knees as I float atop the surface. Exposing my holy flesh to the contenders of will power. Will power my will to engage the mighty rock. And burst and bleed and eviscerate to form, to mold, to sculpt the golden stool of my consciousness.
Feast your eyes upon my crown
Adorned with the corpses of my victory
And collateral damage
Feel its weight as heavy as mercy
The blood pours into the ink as I dig these verses from my soul. The goal, my raison d'être, ikki *** and my modus opernadi is to excuse the agenda pushing glitterti when they tell me what my life should be. I should be, cruising the milky ways and the galaxies that my being exists in. Infinite space, infinite time leaves way for infinite possibilities to truly be free. So don’t mind me.
Standing as the revolution
The testament
Revolving around your disillusion
Thicker than cement
My empire was built on dreams, schemes occupy my reality and place you next to me. And the rest of me I will give to you as I pull you inside of me. So that when my eyes close you sleep and when you are sad I weep, deep is the colour of our passion beyond indigo. More fierce than the might of Chaka and his legions and yet as quiet as snowfall and you are
Beautiful. A shock to the senses that
dissipates the fog.
This concludes
the prelude.

She viewed the sky as oft before
The dark clouds gathering, grey and dim
The scent of rain hung in the air
And she closed her eyes, and prayed for him.

The rain fell soft upon the field
Where enemies had come to fight
Man to man and sword to sword
Though the sword she knew, helped not their plight.

The dark ash shafts that she had watched
Her man so gently preserve
Drops from hells own thunder clouds
Steel points without mercy or reserve.

The great yew bow of sap and heart
Its elegant curves he’d crowned with horn
The string he’d twined so skillfully
With his calloused hands, so rough and worn.

The hands with which he’d clasped her own
And pledged to love her, as he loved the bow,
And slipped a ring of silver fine
upon her hand, she loved him so.

Her heart now leapt within her breast
As mail clad men shouted hurried orders
“Women to the baggage!” She heard them say
and she turned to join her frightened neighbors.

The men had no time to say goodbye
They took up their bows and off they went
Towards the muddy field below
She knew that most to their deaths were sent.

She took her place with other girls
Beside the carts and extra mounts
A buzzing whisper of nervous speech
Drowned the men’s descending shouts.

Now and again she closed her eyes
The cross was made and prayer began
She murmured to Mary, the ****** Blessed
To guard the life of every man.

She listened hard and heard the sound
Of thousands of throats shout muddled cries
Their words were lost within the wind
And a twanging note seemed to break the skies.

She knew the archers all had loosed
Their fingers plucked at the harp strings of Death
Her man had sent his goose-fledged shaft
On a journey to leave a widow bereft.

The clash of steel and screams of steeds
shattered the note of twanging bows
And she heard the battle rage all the more
As the melee rose in the field below.

The battle seemed to last for years
The noise of combat daunting and loud
Waned and waxed as the day wore on
But her prayers continued, her head remained bowed.

Salty tears fell from her eyes to
tight clasped hands, their knuckles white
Spare him, spare him, was her cry
And then the sun brought forth its light.

The army’s women raised their heads
And watched as their tired, muddied men,
Crested the top of the trampled hill
Warriors come from death’s dark den.

She searched the ranks with pleading eyes
For the well-known face of her lover true
But it seemed that countless men came
Streaming towards her, and none she knew.

Until at last the final rank
In mud and ****** mail encased
Came into the valley, worn and weary
And she saw at last the familiar face.

A cry of joy came from her lips
A prayer of greatest heartfelt thanks
Her feet grew wings and off she flew
Into her archer’s strong embrace.

Give me the pain, please.
Even if there is none.
Project what you think fit
onto my masochistic spirit,
who waits, open, longing
for the jab.