Pyre

The Pyre of absolution distills purity

Droning with indifference and fallacy,
she marched, toting banners of hate
adorned with my fecal-smeared face,
Laughing, thinking weakness my boon,
tracing my every breath with bile,
passing puss off as truth.

I sprang the vacuuming pyre,
an infernal pit of absolution,
special madness cultured,
crafted to her silhouette
and magnetic to sin.
Blind to this, she leapt.

Abstinence wasn't in season.
Inevatibility beared no masks.

I glimpsed in approval
as her face cracking with fear,
assembled to fury.
It flew by like a murder
of crows vortexed to execution.
Her rage so intoxicating,
fiddled my emotions.
I almost leaked saline.

Oh how her nails creaked backwards,
liberated of their fleshy anchors,
popping free one a turn.
Her actions - feeble and crispy,
trying to ascend molten jaggedness.
Flailing mass in rapid decline.

A soothing cacophony,
crackles and wails, formed the music
as I gazed into the glowing abyss
to admire her waltzing with death,
her beauty escalating with each tread.

Darting motions quiet down,
indicating timely applause.


Savoury sensations of ash
cuddled my nasal orifices,
groping with scathing embraces
as I inhaled her charred essence,
holding each breath prisoner.
Her demise, orgasmic.

She would have felt the same...

-Svw