Fiore: Number Two

Melodies of morals play down my fingertips
Like the keys of a piano
Meant to be used, manipulated
To whatever needs must be met.

Does it make me the bad guy
To fulfill the role of the heroine,
Or the villainness when
My sisters are unable to?

I can play any game I like
And I can change the situation
As quickly as a snap of my fingers.

My magic runs within the
Feminine humans of earth,
The strong willed, fiery ones
That are willing to fight for themselves,

And especially those who seek justice
Beyond themselves,
Selfless to a fault
But also know when to ask for help.

I am the chaos, the elements
That stir within your soul
And burn bright with every passion.

I am the neutrality of what is right
And what is wrong,
Wrapped in a blanket of magical
Esteem and grandeur.

My slim, vampire figure
May haunt the others
But for the misunderstood,
The strange, the different,

The otherworldly -
I can be your hope,
Your darkest secret.

Ziegwelder: Number One

Unbreakable, my shoulders carry on
And the battlefield plays out
Exactly as I'd hoped
Playing my strengths
Against your weaknesses

My sword always larger
And always swifter
Than the biggest blade of them all

I wonder if my liege, my sole friend
Carries on my wisdom still;
And when I've faded once and for all
Will I still be the strongest?

His gold still plays my fingertips
As our brotherhood lives on inside my head
But the purpose I long for eludes me;

Why am I still here?
I ask The Fates but they won't tell.
The amnesia made me wander for days,
And here I am now, before the lost others,
Wondering why we were born so soon?

The T-Shirt

I found it
The shirt that you left at my house
Many weeks ago
Before you left.

I know it's there, in my drawer
And I wonder -
No, I must not do it -
And my heart sinks a little lower

As I remember that when I see you next
You may want it back -
Or maybe if I don't say anything,
Anything at all, I can keep it for now?

Days go by where I haven't left
My velvet draped, barred bedroom
This tomb I have built for myself
To die within

And I hear your voice in my headphones
And I suddenly remember:
The shirt is here,
Within my reach.

And I force myself out of my bed
With such vigor as an undead
Can while being so
Hungry in this agonizing state of mind

I slip it on, feeling your protection
Wash over my once crawling skin,
Calming the waves
In this ravaged, torrential sea.

The chaos is over, until I smell it:
I smell you
Even after washing this shirt with
My own guilt stained laundry

And suddenly I'm in heaven again,
And smelling the collar is just
Not enough; It would
Never be enough to satiate this

Want, this need,
This disability to function without
Every inch of your mind,
Your soul, your soft yet firm demeanor

Stifling, drowning me until I
Can't feel myself anymore...
And I lift up the shirt from the
Bottom, to my face

Smothering you all over me
Until all I can breathe is you
And I can feel you wanting me too,
Just like we were before.

And maybe, just maybe, it's crazy
That a scent could do such
Terrible, selfish things to me.
But I know that next time I see you

I won't be able to stop the salivation
From your laugh, your smile, your wit,
Your silvery eyes that I could
Lose myself in for days.

Our marks still burn and I could
Smell you from hundreds of feet away,
The saliva filling my mouth and my
Teeth growing with desire.

And while I fill myself with all of you,
Your scent from this shirt you so
Carelessly left in my hands,
I haven't hurt you yet --

We are still more than just friends,
And the goodness of your heart is
Possessing me just as I possessed you
As you worshiped my body.

But in the end, when I finally finish
And there is no more scent left
And the moon is black
And the darkness fills my room,

I am once again alone
In this tomb I have built for myself to die in,
And I am so sure that you
Haven't missed me for a moment.

My hunger, my need for you
Isn't satiated at all
And I know it may never be again,
But we'll see, won't we?

The next time I see you
And I can't stop staring
Will you notice me struggling
To stay away from you, even for a second?

Will you remember the way I could
Barely resist the smell of your
Sweatshirt, your chest, your neck
Before we were even together?

Or will you simply ask me for
That shirt back,
Leaving me with nothing,
Not even hope, to hold onto?

------------------------------------------

If you want access to our posts a whole week early, check out our patreon at:
http://www.patreon.com/adesertofwords

Laugh at the Elder Gods

Professor Nabir knew it was an authentic piece when the fourth intern of the month went briefly mad and broke his face against the 3^rd floor bathroom window. They had used the subsequent blood and gore to paint a beautifully horrendous mural before entering a month long screaming coma.

The good professor had been employing the classic Miskatonic strategy of mentally preparing himself for the events to follow. Meanwhile, he allowed the supple minds of his interns to take the brunt of uncovering the dark truth the black cube, which sat in one of the many unlabeled study rooms within the age-warped wooden halls of the University. From what he could gather from the notes before they descended into raving madness (and in one case, a killer brownie recipe), the inscription on the cube forewarns that contained within it's mono molecular perfect angles is a great beast that hungers for freedom.

While the Forbidden Collection had more than it's fair share of such artifacts, given it's chatty nature, Nabir hoped it could convince, or at least trick the monster into monologuing enough secrets to be usable for his own personal projects. With that goal in mind he made the Elder sign, popped a downer and an upper and entered into the room where the Cube resisded.

The malefic presence of the demonic rubiks cube of cosmic black stone devoured the mid afternoon light streaming though the dusty windows. Various measuring equipment of dubious science and faulty arcane structure circled the thing like scared dogs around a bigger-than-average cat, softly beeping or ticking as they observed unseen forces.

Nabir stepped over wires, hastily scrawling glyphs of protection, and came to look down at the cube directly. He pulled a talisman free of his breast pocket and held it toward the cube.

“Greetings,” He said in a mock cheer, “I am Professor Nabir of the Miskatonic Universities Forbidden Major.”

The Box hissed like a thousand snakes in the throws of a death orgy, the noise shards of alien glass attempting to rend the mind and strip the soul. Such noise merely slid past Nabir as the drugs kept chemical stability within his mind. There was a pause followed by another wave of insanity, rode out with a yawn of boredom.

A more confused hiss followed shortly.

“Ah, yes your kind would be quite confused over this situation.” The Professor said in a casual smugness. “For you see, we here at the university have found that you beings effect the chemical balance of our brains, some psycho malefic aura which causes brief mental instability. We believe this is a mutated hunting tactic from before you evolved to higher consciousness.”

The Warbled nonsense of sound made confused noises and its surface pulsed a bruised puce color in response.

“It means the nonsense of beings beyond our mortal plane being mind rending terrors is in fact both true and absolutely false, so the University can finally progress in our studies.” Nabir condescendingly explained.

There was more of a wet grumbling from the less ominous artifact.

“No, I won’t be freeing you, now hush, I have read-outs and samples to take.”

Losing Grip

What do you want me to tell you?
That my arm shook as I kept myself
From grabbing and pulling all of you
Into my life?

That my skin could not bear life,
Without your electric touch again?
That the daemon who held my soul
Only amplified my want to hold your hand?

That I almost lost control of myself
From being in your magnetic presence;
Your lies and expressions telling
What I wanted to hear whispered within?

You read me like a book on a shelf
To you, the shiniest, newest, brightest novel
You'd ever seen before you.
But did you even hold the key to anything,

Or was it just to my most primal wants;
Imagining your hands up and down my waist,
My back, my hips, and your tongue
Telling me all I'd ever want to hear from you?

Are other people truly just a game,
A conquest, a vague interest to your shallow mind?
And once you had won me over,
Would you have set me on your shelf of lies?

The Anxious Wait

Tiptoeing around the fires,
A cold winter's night chills me through
And when I think of you all alone
The glass in my gut moves further.

I gag and I moan but there is no end
To the anguish until I hear your voice again
Gracefully dancing, I feel the hot stones
Burning my feet beneath my slippers

But my bones just won't warm up -
I shiver as melodic music plays
Up and down my vertebrae
As keys upon the piano in my bedroom

I must be losing my mind
Because time just doesn't make sense,
And the music won't stop,
The voices told me I cannot.

And I keep dancing,
Tiptoeing around the fires:
My bones freezing and my feet
Just an inch from the flames,

But they won't let me stop,
And the music won't stop,
And the glass in my gut keeps
Cutting and tearing me up...

If I can't hear your voice tonight,
Then I'll never be alright again.
Time swims across the melody,
And the night just will not end.

Torn Away

"Never sacrifice or compromise yourself
For someone else's happiness."
He said upon his hoard made of
Sweets, skulls, and smoke.

And never have such words resonated
So deeply as to play with the strings
And shapes of my undead soul.
"You don't need him."

And just like that, the ties we had shared
Were torn to shreds before my third eye,
The pain stinging tightly in my chest
And my heart, and my mind.

Am I better off with you, my mentor,
My muse, my everything
Up to a few weeks ago?
Are you worth losing?

Suspicious lines run deep in my love,
But he saw before me the look
You have been influenced to give,
Or is it your own? I could never tell.

And never have such words resonated
So deeply as to play with the stars
And space of my scarred mind.
"All you need is yourself."

Growth

Fear, the ever watchful demon
Upon the shoulder of
My peeling, crumbling skin
Under your fingertips

Feel the scars, the cracks
As you trace them with
Your careful, thorough hands
Not to force any pieces free.

And when you finally see how
Damaged, broken I can truly be,
Don't be surprised when my
Flesh cage is brutally torn open -

My anger, focus, and will brought forth
To peel away this prison
I wanted to believe was
All I could ever be -

Revealing to the believers,
The true friends, the worshipers,
What I can truly be,
And what I can truly become.

Compulsion

Give me your hand, your wrist;
Your trusting flesh under my own
Shaking grasp for the first time,
Wondering if you'll understand
That I still want to be your friend.
"You may not remember
What has happened here today."
My hopeful, alcoholic words filling out
The gaps in your weakened mind.

My spiral eyes in your conscious,
Gently caressing and brushing away
The surface thoughts to sweeten
Them with nothing but a dream.

My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you even forgive me for
The monster you have released
From my ever-caged hunger
You have never believed in?
When my teeth, sharpened and
Bursting forth with anticipation
Finally grazed your sickly sweet,
Savory, necessary fluids?

My sanity slowly dripping away
Before your unbelieving sight,
My tongue pressed against
Your bloody, pulsing wrist.

"It will only sting for a moment."
My honeyed, silken words lean
Against your mental shields and
Soak through as a mist moving
Through a slightly cracked window.
The relief on your face tells me,
It will all be okay, in the end.
And I bite, and you don't scream,
The sting only for a brief moment.

My face contorted slightly,
Though you can not pinpoint how;
Or how to describe the dissonance
Of loving to lose so much blood.

Could the aftermath of such a
Mesmerizing, cathartic dance
Truly ruin what we once had?
I drink, until I no longer care.
The blood fills my near empty
Passages, veins filling with
Your softly singeing, tingling
Life essence until I am awake.
I see you on the ground, half dead.

"Well, aren't you a tough one?"
My voice rings out, cold and
Emotionless, conniving, with a
Disgusting clarity of tone.

I crouch down closer to your
Beautiful, cold features.
The marks tell a story of which
I no longer remember.
The snow begins to cover you.
I lift you up, wondering;
My friend, my savior, my hope -
Could you ever forgive me
For being half alive, forever?

Player (Two)

My unsuspecting, idiot jock boy
Who believed that somehow
Feigned love would
Win me over:

You let me hug you, but did you realize
How capable I am of tightening,
Enveloping, squeezing, til I
Heard your last breath?

Just an ounce of whole truth from your
Sickening lips of your plans,
Befuddling my palace mind,
And I would have.

But what if you had won this game;
This competition for my honor,
You had so direly
Tried to win --

When reality washed into you a thought:
That perhaps I'm not the perfect waifu
Your body had wanted,
Begged me for?

What then?

Would the unsatisfying sex have been
Enough for you? Or was this
Just another of your failed
Long term plans?

Pretending your way through your
False friends, dispassionate sex,
Your power-trip career,
All with me --

Dangling alongside you like a paper
Doll, dangling in the breeze,
Just yours to play with
Once you're bored?

And since you've lost this game,
Will you hold it against me,
Your last shred of human
Holding on by a thread?

Watch me, as I rise above your
Tainted, viscous fluids and
Weep, as I will have
Never chosen you.