Saturday, April 2, 2011

Monthly Madness of a Moonchild


It has come again,
Come to claim me,
That time of madness when I am consumed from within.
I stand free yet locked away,
Behind quixotic, mercurial bars of sheer emotion
My logical self, shackled, wonders at the wild interplay:
First an aching sorrow,
Quickly replaced by the hot fires of rage,
All erased for a lovely crystalline moment of pure lust.
The face of the moon has turned away.
Her darkness bringing out my own,
She calls forth that which I would prefer remain forgotten.
And yet, through the ethereal power of my cage
I watch and wait.
Wait for the cycle to turn and for her to come back to me again.
Wait for the soft, cool whispers of her light to wear away at the bonds of this madness.
I wait for my Mistress to set me free from the very madness she calls forth.
I await the return of my sanity.

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