Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower,
And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed,
She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes,
Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell,
As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair
And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears,
Softly he drove his hunting command, homing
To his huntress.

Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance.
Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then
Once more and then again.  She bucked fiercely
And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more
Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white
Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark
Dominion of her quarters.

In the middle of this carnal match they paused.
And looking into the forest beyond they saw
A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still,
Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved
By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent
Leaves.  It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle
Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on
The human hunters did not speak.

Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep.
Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew.
He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing
Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle
As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood.

In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke
And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring
Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves
With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath,
Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings
Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning.

Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid,
And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made;
She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed
Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable,
In Artemis’s wood.

He sits at the edge of the riverbed,
Hating himself.
He stares at his reflection,
Runs claws through his matted hair,
Bares his yellow teeth,
Glares at the creature he sees.
He cannot stand the sight
Of what once was just a man,
Rather vain,
And egocentric,
But not this monster before him.
His love was too wild,
His heart too free,
His mind dulled from lack of use,
Due to lack of Necessity.
And the Goddess,
She saw him,
Standing all alone,
Grinning ear to ear,
Laughing at something unkown.
And she wanted him,
Needed him,
All to herself;
Desire burned inside her
like all the fires of hell.
And gorgeous she was,
As all Goddesses are.
Her beauty shined brighter
than a thousand burning stars.
She did have him,
All to herself that night.
He filled her body and soul with light.
The passion erupted in a clash of destructive romance as their lust did ignite
at their touch.
And the Goddess fell in love,
With a mortal?
This was unheard of!
But the fool who had driven her mad,
Did not understand what he had.
The power and glorious might she possessed,
Her beauty unrivaled - which left men obsessed,
Her magic, her grace, her celestial face,
But greater than all, her divine jealous rage.
And Fool that he was,
Our old clown, Gnarcissus,
Squandered the love of his goddess above.
He was given a gift
No mortals had known,
His mind was a cloud
and his heart was a stone.
And his sins of the flesh
with a mortal like he,
Left him ****** for eternity.
For the Goddess,
Who loved and burned for him,
Watched him kiss her
on the skin
Beneath her chin,
Upon her chest,
Between her legs,
And all the rest.
Never once before had she
Endured the pangs of jealousy!
"How the Living Hell could he,
Betray me so easily?
A curse I'll place
upon his face,
His simple mind
I shall erase!
And as he falls
Out of my grace
I'll watch his pain
And *******."

And to this day,
He sits and hates
himself
Alone,
Left to his fate.
And to this day,
She won the game
of love, lust, loss and flames.
Though she may have lost a mate,
Now she's always entertained.

She draws your eyes at first when you look/
Her soft hair falls like water drawn by electricity.
In the corner spines try and strangle books.
Or some sort of bone- might not be a spine.
But they are forcing them shut. Such crooks.  

Creeping in the corner of the warmer side of the room
Is a man who stares like he longs to be her groom.
I assume he’s the focus that your not supposed to notice.
“Don’t try and draw meaning! It’s useless to do so”,

Cries the voice in my head as I try and make my thoughts slow.

I shall just gaze emptily. Theres plenty to please
my eyes without meaning rotting my brain like disease.
But theres need to unravel why he glares at her crimson.
Why crimson? Why Crimson? I have to listen.

“ Perhaps his face is the blood that runs through us.
A symbol of lust? Love? Or Mistrust. Lets discuss”/  

I must shut this noise at once. Enough.
I can’t start tying this to myself or my own health.
Ignore what is felt, focus on the symbols with context.
Think of what is in front of you not what might be next.

“ But whats next messed before. ******* it right up.
The man had been hexed in folk tale made up!
She stole the symbol and painted him to creep up.”

Regardless, Lets part with these thoughts and just focus.
Theres locust that leap beneath her feet we didn’t notice.
Now Locusts can be hopeless but also denote somewhat biblically.
Perhaps this plague lurking is his misery? Represented Physically

“ By a woman on a hill painted with locust covered feet.
A crimson man behind her sat creeping perched on a seat.
In the corner theres a pile of books with titles you can’t read.
And spines try and choke them but instead they somehow feed."

And all this by a woman who I know could not see me.

The Guide and I into that road
     Now entered, to return to the bright world;
     And without care of having any rest                                         135

We mounted up, he first and I the second,
     Till I beheld through a round aperture
     Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.

The rain fell down with half its might;
trying to smite the flowers.
But the bed was merely lodged,
The rain used half its power.
There was nothing could be done,
The rain could not pretend.
The flowers waited for the sun
To lift them up again.

The shore is always there—
beyond the rocky coast
a hawk whips a wing at
the volatile sea, quaking from the force
of an unseen monster below whose
walloping jaws flop open to consume all,
yet some nights the monster’s mouth
matches mine; she gently kisses me
inside a sea-strewn dream,
her slick blue skin descending
beneath moonlit flesh—she’s emerging
from the waves, lunging toward the clouds
adorned with detonations
of sea green and foam
Her dive ends
She’s the whale again
A shadow beneath blue white glass
On I sail,
scanning the dark familiar ocean
      it means everything.

If rain could kiss the sun,
The clouds, so cold, would feel warm
They'd finally touched the impossible

The sun would smile because
It has always shone alone;
But rain came in and touched its soul
And it prefers company to light

But rain has touched everyone and
Those it shears it longs no more
But the sun thought it was different

But rain is ephemeral
And flames are permanently extinguished
So the sun died down and tried to shine
And it rained on Earth again-no different

Its frightening how
being alone and being lonely
are not the same.

A wise Greek spoke of a cave
and a fire in the back of our minds
with lips pressed to our palms
casting shadows of false reality
and puppeteers with hidden strings
and chains that sit
comfortably on scathing skin.

We were born in the cave.

I've come to realize
I am not the same person
at three o'five AM
and half past eight.

Miah is the girl I was:
And in a way I envy her.
She only felt artificial pain
That the character creator gave her.

Ben is the one who was my friend,
But who showed his true colors later
When I needed him most, he left me alone
As a character, he was barely even hated.

Connor, well, his story's not told
While I'm still reeling from his counterpart's words
I plan to write it soon, and then
I will spare her no allegorical hurt.