Screams

your existence is my fault; your life my death. berated were she, lost in the supple embrace of life's silken, seething, lies. She were the immaculate conception of a demon and his wretched whore, and yet from them, they gave her love, in which she so quickly turned from. She was lost, so perfectly driven to attain freedom and divinity. Her embrace, it was a fickle thing, they all slipped through, they all fell to their damnation. Hissing, writing, devouring the fiend slips through the night, her voluptuous curves upon her perfect frame mark her as the temptress of the night, and yet, where persuasion is laden in her hips, she dines on the ability to withhold ones' self. To embark on a new journey, one of morality. She is not the dowager to good will, nor that of vengeance. Her words, her steps, her blatant damnation, is empirical. Love me, covet me, need me. her chilling and trying whisper, her thoughts, her daunting and inspirational venue. Eyes of feral gleam, she can entrance and ensnare her love, her life. She defies what they, foolish men, dare peg as a woman, dare lie to the world about her capability. watch your words, i'll rip your fucking throat out. She's a danger, a lingering problem and an aberration to society's standards. Brilliant, exotic, and tantalizing. She lingers for all eternity.



Her graceful sway, her toxicity and seeming trepidation is a delicious mixture. Prowess and regalia cling to her entrancing bodice, and beneath the pallor of the moon, she dances, dances for elegance and o so naturally does she flow, O, so naturally does she offer a purpose to such a cold existence. Loving and hating, in conscious timing. She is the one, the timeless queen.