Love No More

Love No More.

The obsidian pendulum swung. A darkness that defied gravity, the ungrounded sceptre hung inverted; each scything pass through the air produced an electrical hum bound in Machiavellian intent. Its crackle a distant promise from a land of pain, a locked desire, a caged hunger, a woeful venomous creature to its core. How I longed for its cold embrace.

The ceiling was as distant as the tallest spires, sunk down in this pit. There I stood in the foetid air laid rank with the sulphur and the brimstone of the aether, my torso lathered with oil and my long dark hair smoothed over my back following along the floor like a funeral drape of old. I stare at the incoherent green haze shot with purple hue that surrounds the swinging giant, an after-image of its cutting figure swirls in the mists of forgotten time; the odd lashed tendril of thought smashes against its invisible cage in a dazzle of electrified light and I know that the time has come again.

My pale hand stretches out, my mouth dry with anticipation, I close my eyes and spread my fingers such that I would fly and hold to my bosom this malefic beast’s perfection. Time slows to an infinite crawl as I reach forward, a crescendo rising in my chest as my arm finds its limit; oh sweet excruciating pain. I am thrown backward as again I am rejected. But yet I return, once my shudders subside and I rise from my pleasured slumber, I return. I will always return.

Swinging, ever swinging. I stand and breathe, the searing light followed the scars of old, a pattern of pain that laces its way up my arms and across my body; I am art refined. To look upon me is to look upon desire manifest, a passion, a need, a desperate hunger. Death is always a moment away, yet I never die. I am wanted still and she knows there is no other way, no other life for her to live but with me. I will bring her life like a sweet sickly nectar to her lips and she will be free.

The smooth glass floor is grooved around the ever swinging sentience, my muse bears my adoration poorly as I rove its features with my eyes, the aeons passing as I walk the circumference, grinding the chamber floor with glacial patience beneath even my bare light feet. None can comprehend my devotion and my love, none can witness my rebirth; locked here in the squalor and the filth we will become one.

I will be loved as I love, and then love shall be no more.