FierceDeity2

A Bedlam for my Desultory Desideratum Perfectly contorted hands, trace fingers down my chest. They draw a trail of blood, on my canvas of skin and flesh. How?  I buried her in heaven, with the rest of those, my despotically disposed. She's screaming like a banshee, serenading like an angel, it's a ballad of love or hate, lost deep in her hymnal. Merciful torture, entangled throes of love. My desideratum, the creation thereof.

I look at her in ecstasy.