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He Pa'amon Aug 2018
convinced she had no beauty,
she stared at her own reflection
into her pupils , down her throat , into her ear canals,
until her own face morphed into something unrecognizable.
she cut herself open , let her veins run like a stream , shed her skin, searching for any beauty that may exist
deep
deep
down.

and in her desperate searching
she found it ,
lines and bumps and curves she once thought were horrid
transformed before her eyes.
in her constant and endless willing ,
wanting ,
wishing for them to be beautiful,
they became.

and the world started to notice ,
eyes widened , heads turned , hearts opened , and groins awoke
and she reveled in her new-found power.
she wrapped men and women alike around her dainty but deft fingers,
shining jewels.
her beauty was a power ignited and fueled by herself alone
and she burned , a beautiful flame , with an intensity that left nothing but ash and scar in her wake.

exhausted after ******* the life out of yet another and already seeing the next one willfully align in her crossfires,
she tried to lessen the flame , to tame what she had now become ,
she wrapped herself in cloaks , shaved her lustrous locks , and swore herself to celibacy.

but her beauty was unleashed and could not be returned to her dark depths.
it shown through every crack and cloth and she ran ,
ran from herself ,
ran from the world.
touch became sinful and painful and unwanted ,
gazes became violating , haunting ,
and she cried out at the world blaming them for being so weak and lustful and victim to the wills of the skin

and she cried out at herself , brushing her finger tips over her own skin ,
for the power she had wished into being had become her greatest curse ,
the world , in which she only wished would see her ,
to love her ,
she consumed violently and she now found herself utterly alone ,
with only herself to love.
Roman Payne May 7
No god above could ever inspire
my love like She whom I admire.
The temple where each night I pray,
is the holy bed where nights She lay.

A cup of wine.
A bed divine.
No world outside,
nor thoughts of time.

Our bodies meet,
our arms enlace;
our limbs entwine,
our lips embrace.

When lips first taste of passion's bliss,
in this holy kiss that we rehearse;
our bodies' grace is our godliness,
our bed divine is our universe.

Shrine of our idolatry,
bind our flesh eternally;
sear our chests with passion's fire,
adhere our groins of mad desire.

Forever our spirits in the Heavens soar,
however, we plummet - to the floor.
Fingertips chase over slips of lace.
Teeth they find all things that bind...

How savagely our clothes unwind
as we prepare on bed divine
to make the sacrifice sublime!

And all Creation comes from this
Breath we form in holy kiss.
When lips combine
Your breath in mine,
two breaths they form
one breath divine.

Déesse, mon âme,
by Your body,
All that's godly, I define.
For what could be in the skies above,
that I can't find within Your love?

Our love, it makes the stars align,
the moon eclipse,
and the solar shine.

And all Creation comes from this
Union of our holy kiss.


[End of Act I]
Audio version of this is free on Roman Payne's SoundCloud page.

— The End —