If creation is something
That springs forth from nothing;
Could we make a love from naked air?
If our thoughts, strange and brutal
Laid in soil, rich and fertile;
Could they conjure a fire from a prayer?
I have watched as you linger
I have christened you, zephyr
My cruel wind of hot consequence
Your reply is a liquor;
Is a frail, silken tether
As I pull, I am drunk with suspense.
In the night, dark and sticky
A vision lies with me
An hourglass that wears a sly smile;
As she writhes, tether-spun
As she weaves; she's undone
As she falls...she is mine to beguile.
'Tis a tight, sharp embrace
Of my vision and your face
Tastes like sugary breath, sweat and sin
Now in day's sun-spilled glow
I bask in your shadow
And imagine it as my new skin.
On one side, my dream creature
Opposite, I, sepulchre
Empty as the void in between
Brooding in nothing's eye
Is a saccharine lie
That might grow to a tumultuous scheme.
The words lie on your lips
Our sweet tragedy script
And I'm trapped in this cage 'til they're blown
Shall I mourn our fate here?
Until you beckon near
And I drink of the blood from the stone.