THE WEEKEND IS ABOUT OVER---S0 HERE IS A THOUGHT TO TAKE INTO YOUR NEW WORKWEEK !!
This poem is dedicated to my wickedness !
Becoming
Dark presence always with you, nameless longing---shadow lovingly stalking you, in preparation for your becoming. The deeper realm enticing you, dreams of power...incomprehensible---such awful avarice you display, such actions...reprehensible. Lusting in your passion, demanding trinkets in exchange---bartering existence's sweet purity, for the favors you arrange. Sighing gently in release, sweet physical experience---carnal desire satiated, pursuing power's elusive countenance.
Chanting fell forgotten utterances, seeking knowledge in dark places---mindful always of advantage, to be gained from your embraces. Forbidden secrets interest you, your quest does not abate---such things as joyous celebration, you find difficult to relate... To goals you have committed to, awful desire running wild---mercy and compassion lost, purpose and ambition reconciled. Occasionally internal strife admits, existence of a soul---becoming is monumental, broken hearts...are not consoled.
A lifetime spent pursuing, tell me what it is you've gained---for everything but power, by you is now disdained. Such elaborate expensive prizes, if the total truth be told---lonely solitary existence flawed, desperation looms...uncontrolled. So revel in your accomplishments, for you have in fact prevailed---the only cost you'll notice, is the inhumanity you unveiled. Power beckons unrelentingly, a dubious reward---love lost is such a bitter pill, sanity will never be restored.
Remember gentle listeners, for this message doth convey... The fruit of acquisition...though appealing in its beauty...too often will betray.
Incautious neophyte, wandering aimlessly---exploring borders, questing shamelessly... For secrets hidden, from mortal awareness---her innocence making her, unforgivably careless. Stumbling upon sour earth---foul pregnant entity giving birth... To one whose awful name inspires---malignant dreams, demented mortal desires.
Birth signifying, death of dreams---beauty forever lost, birth-mother screams... Writhing and moaning, changeling clawing inside her...birthblood jetting, pooling beside her. Into our plane, nightmare born again---neophyte aghast, driven nearly insane. Grotesque incarnation, seems to be grinning---gazing coldly at mother, dreaming of sinning.
Backing away, neophyte desperately striving---for surcease, from the image of changeling arriving. Frantic noises,unkowingly spoken---bowels voiding in horror, darkest dread still unspoken. Birth-mother grunts, changeling's foul actions resuming---suckling mother's teat, her life-force consuming. Sated for now, changling casually disdains---this dried husk once his mother, all that remains.
Inching carefully away, elders must be advised---foul abomination lives, birthed before her eyes. This thought paramount, neophyte swiftly fleeing---away from this abattoir, her wide eyes unseeing. Distance desired, from this unthinkable depredation---away from cruel changling, seeking salvation. Stinking breath on her neck, suddenly discerned---claws severing flesh, somehow unconcerned... Curiously calm, she finds herself on the ground---desperate screams go unheeded, for there's no one around.
Changling capers in glee, such despicable carnage arouses... Thoughts of succulent mortals, asleep in their houses.
