When the world ends.

And there was a world of possibility in this hell she lived, in this abyss of flesh and walls.

Dancing above the discarded waste, she swayed, she swayed to the freedom of foul smelling air.

Animal, beast, desperate wretch, lips painted with blood still fresh. The thirst thrust upon her

through yearning, longing, blasphemous desires. Whore caged and tortured, deranged and medicated.

Forgotten in the wreckage of days material long gone and spent.

Upon the scorched decay stood still. Savage.

The orange light of the dying sun shone clear over her ever changing flesh. Rebirth burnt its last remains.

True form and beauty let loose in reality of the feral nature near destroyed.

Natural violence through passion and flesh. Fire that courses like wind through

veins boiling the blood that thickens and feigns.

And there she stood, the only living soul, chest beating deeply, heart left to moan.

Eyes miraculous, glowing, wet with dew. As the beast is set free.

No bars, no walls. Free in the death, the burnt remains of suffocation, derogation, manipulation of the senses.

Dancing in the waste burning outward to deface the body once captured, once object-formed and standard.

Swayed she sways to the explosion of veins, to the remarkable chains, setting flesh to flame.

Cured of restriction ash falls from the skies once a danger like acid, like pills to the mind.

She dances in grace, in full form, and lace, she screams to the stars her lungs fit to burst.

Exploding like a match, heart swells with passion.

The animal, the creature, the truth and its master.

(September 14 2012)