The Cauldron Boils

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Her infrastructure shows a deviation,
Not by her design but there the same...
An inferno of rage,
The cauldron boils...
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Too caught up in the oblivious to care,
A voyeur takes stance in her infinity...
Morbid thoughtlessness prevail,
The abyss takes an horrid turn...
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Not uncommon among the masses,
Achievement satisfies a hostile soul...
The end approaches with ambivalence,
Electricity flows through her veins...
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Nerve endings severed...
The flow commences its journey....
Passion communicated through her only release...
It happened, and she pants...
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A human form shares her inebriation...
Extracted in the domain fist rendered...
The eclipse not of the heart and soul,
Resentment caressed by the knowledge...
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She lets her skeleton rest,
Among the threads of the Egyptian cotton....
Dampened only by the morbid oddity,
Of glands swollen to capacity...
Existence dwells in the Spirits form,
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And again, she waits....
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