Broth Of Oblivion

Sourceless, rythmless, heartless.

I scan the desert.

Since I, in my beasthood saw the dancers there.

As my hands, two tiny figures, came visible,

Like a carniver of flesh.

A union of monstrosities.

Curveless, boundless, eyeless.

I flee from the source of my agony.

Since I, in my beasthood, took form

In new, alien anatomies.

My limbs towering, mounting in celebration.

Murmuring the approval of new glories;

New threats, new intimacy.

With this, I am fit to charm the Devil.

Sneering down my pale face.

I am erect with his anger and lust.

I am the grace of them all.

Still sneering, drooling, floating.

Breeding curves of hell.

And shreds of pre-human gloss.

This softens those songs to dust.