Pools of Eyes

Looking down in the pools of water      
puddled like so much gutter-rain        
did they reflect My thoughts      
was it an abysmal reflection or
simply a caricature of a Man
who looked back      
Often it seems that I never know what to say      
twisted and torn,
My tongue lies in tatters        

That hand riven      
My gaze gone cold      
Silken are the strands as they fall on her soft flesh      
Slight are the tremblings as the leather beats and raises Worlds:      
welts again      
I can’t seem to get away from that        

The room at the end of the pathway      
My mind strewn      
she lies waiting for My return      
twisted, just the way I left her        
Tied to the foot of the bed      
Wary of eye      
                    lacklustre her gaze      
and when she sees Me enter        
soft silk robes in My hands    
perchance the glimmer awakens    
                    only to die Yet again      

Her face covered      
                             her form exposed      
Paraded through the streets      
again and anon      
On her way to the Tree.