I read until the words levitated above the page. I pondered their power. The power to unhinge from their oceanic rage. It was true, they were indeed mightier than a sharpen blade, and swifter than the call of the grave. Their fluidity sustained me, immersing my senses deeper. Now, they were above, and I was below. - Ultimately transforming my world.
~ and so I continued to read...
My love, the moon silently crept in your window the night you were born, and placed her pale upon your skin, turning your azure eyes emerald.
A shadow of derision swept across her unapologetic mask, as she continued preening the dream-dust from her fledgling.
Dominance being undisturbed by the fidgeting, submerges his beak once more into the swirling mead.
'Neath the crust of wounds, a familiar voice spills through, shaking frantically against a surge of shadows, she steps forth, commanding this wretched shriek to kneel. There are no others within this wilderness, which rule over the needling weave, that I conceal. The Moon does not shy behind clouds ...
My greed is slightly disturbing - I can't hide it 'neath azure anthems, or below the moon's quiet arousal. Drink my poetic mead, his tenor voice concedes. Bleed from the arch of your mind to see. Currents of weakness tease the night, reaping in waves on pain's delight. I recede to his trailing tongue as it burns along the crease of my affixed sensations.