Weaving to the pulse of a room.
The thick blend of sweat and passion is cast out to the hungry.
As the assault eases there is a moment of calm.
A deep breath before the machine gun fire.
Seconds before everything comes crashing down;
An onslaught you know well.
Heavy hits from limbs, belts, and bones as adrenaline
Allows you to give as good as you get and show that you care;
Show that you do this because you have to;
That the pulse owns all and has full control.
I salute those who can make a room implode;
Those who rip everything from you so you have to face it.
The bruises remind us that we were there
And we share the fallout,
Because we live for that ****.

She who lives in
Darkness and in light
Entertaining her precious soul
While dancing in the flames
Flaring in the depths of her mind
Master of thought
Commander of thought
Dreamer of cloud height dreams
Fantasizer of dreams shrouden in black smoke
Eyes as receptors to the world
The black hallowed earth around her
She walks this black earth
She who is
The Hallowed Maiden