Until the nights begin I’m dead
I wake and twist my hair in spires
Late and I am barely water-fed

Went out and greeted his hands on my head
His animal hands wrapped round my head
“Evening”        “hello”        or nothing, he said

He reached above to lift me higher
From his fingertips I rolled ahead
Then turned to wait, taut, singing, dread

He conveyed me home half dead
And kneeled a time as at a pyre
I, burning in his small dark bed

He carved a wish on me in red
And advancing toward the wide black bed
“Ready for battle,” is what he said

A pounce to kill enflames instead
Arms folded back and bound with wire
Pinned blind and screaming into the bed

yay! gratuitous sex and gothiness. groan. ;p