To your skin,
I write a thousand sonnets;
She recalls the rain.

To your smell,
I sigh a hundred ancient songs;
She sticks to me like toffee.

And oh,
To your eyes ...
To drown in silt stardust,
To smother in her hues.

To your hands,
I bow in thorns and roses;
She's grasped flesh and bone.

To your lips,
I grow ten dozen lilacs;
She carries the taste of your breath.

And oh,
To your voice ...
To asphyxiate in words,
To choke in her cadence.

And just as your veins will be empty of blood seven decades from now,
The tender love is fleeting.

But the rain still falls,
And the bones remain.

I long to crawl from my own skin.
An emptiness consumes me from within.

Far and wide, I search for a home; a prison it is to exist within my own bones.
A gnawing begins to fill my brain,
maggots and vermin lead my mind astray.
I long for the day I am severed from myself.  

Suffering, I sell my soul
to gods of worlds old,
just to breathe a life free of the suffering that is me.

Does my presence torment your mind? Or does my face etch itself upon your fingers at night ?

Doomed to see but never to touch. Doomed to be a prisoner of memory and fear.

Curses and bloodbaths have summoned you near. Do you feel the weight of my spirit whenever she is near ?

Fated to futility, your mind torments its own being. A mind that longs but never fully seeing.

Endless rivers have I cried for you; now it’s your turn to kneel at my pew.

Tempted to touch, take a bite. Or forever be haunted by my memory into the dusk of an eternal night.

I chase you like a dog,
relentless, unwavering,
with legs that tire
but never stop,

fueled by a never-ending desire
to be loved.

My eyes see past your soul,
piercing the depths of your being,

I've become a secondary character
in my own movie,
obsessing over your every move,
every breath.

You're the director,
and I want to be a star,

but alas, I'm just a pawn
on the board,
my heart beating to the rhythm
of your name,

a prisoner of my own passion.

A duality stirs within me.

A horned goat flashes its blood stained teeth,
with an evanescent haze that traps me in its vengeful gaze.
How I crave a blood so sweet,
one that only the goddesss Lilith could serve cold enough to eat.

Wrath consumes my mind, with a power that deludes.
Kali Ma grants me her weapons of destruction,
oh how I yearn to embody her death dance.

Yet my heart is pulled by the goddess of love.
She enchants me once more,
and the veil of an imago wraps my yearning heart within.

I am neither the Kali nor the Aphrodite, for both lie within.
As above, so below,
as the shadow, so the soul.
May Baphomet guide me down this untraversed path,
and may all who stand in my way feel the power of my wrath.