I'm burning with every soft whisper down my spine, my pulse is vibrato.
Like the soft and energetic hum of horsehair melting into song.
Writhing in dance against the twisted embrace of chromium on the strings.
A clash of furious titans.
Making storms when they collide; the wind and the tide.
Wrestling for power 'til the waves crash one over another, gasping, growling.
Oxygen.
When my lips meet cotton crisp and sweet, and beg for freedom of another kind.
And there in quiet whimpers do we seek, together this enlightenment of lone and fallen ones.
Grazing sharp and silent little wounds, quieted by scar tissue.
Healing through our fingertips and moans, twisted as an ouroboran knot;
feeling mirrored heartbeats strike like savage drums.
When the guise of warpaint loses shape, cast aside for inner feral forms,
grinning cheshire, hidden thorny claws.
In the darkness of another night, heavy with the weight of misty breaths, there from underneath do they then come,
the master and his hound, the lord and fallen one.