Sacrosanct sacrifices
collide in a mirrored image.
There’s a dual grace in the anguish
as the High Priestess tears
a beating heart out —
It lures a half-crazed
Apollonian hymn from you,
harmonized to the devil’s interval,
for my repertoire of Dionysian dance,
attuned to ballet’s feral ceremonies.
On the lunar stage of ecstasy,
we sedate and ******
But how far do you dare to rival the muses?
“As far as it takes, and then some more.”
You say to me, in consummate hunger.
Or are we just fools drunk on nectar
in a tug of never-ending war?
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 10:27 AM UTC
Sacrosanct sacrifices
collide in a mirrored image.
There’s a dual grace in the anguish
as the High Priestess tears
a beating heart out —
It lures a half-crazed
Apollonian hymn from you,
harmonized to the devil’s interval,
for my repertoire of Dionysian dance,
attuned to ballet’s feral ceremonies.
On the lunar stage of ecstasy,
we sedate and ******
But how far do you dare to rival the muses?
“As far as it takes, and then some more.”
You say to me, in consummate hunger.
Or are we just fools drunk on nectar
in a tug of never-ending war?