message to the prince of fire

There is an absence in you, seeking to invade the presence in me.

My prince,
How I long to succumb to your darkness.
How I yearn to reside
In the largesse of your shadow,
So your poison might
Violate
Each and every temple of mine.

There is an absence in you, my prince,
Seeking to invade
The presence in me—
To mine my penetralia and burn—
Until you alone provide 
Presence in me,
And I retain only absence.

And it is true, what they say!
There is a dark, alluring way 
That your hunt circles prey—
And the will to dominate 
All life
In you
Permeates every orifice of me,
As I yield myself to death.

Oh, my prince—
Trespass through the eye of the needle!
Let me feel the heat
Of your six-trillion eyes
Blazing the shape of my being—
Finding every weakness,
Burning sacrificial flesh
Of spirit, soul, and body—
Rending mercurial other-ness into dust.

And, in subordination
To your thick, frothing pyre,
And the violence and the anger of your heart,
My spirit lies dreaming
Of what being trapped
Beneath the avalanche of your body
Might really be like—
Every garden your ingress,
Every wound your object,
Everything plundered and dilated,
In the fixation of malefic rapture.

One day, in the valley,
In a tumbling swell of abyssal smoke,
I shall feel you closing in on me—
I shall feel leviathan breath, on the back of my neck—
I shall feel the reaping of soil,
The combine-harvesting of my soul,
And the sewing of ten-thousand dark seeds.

Oh, my prince! I yield my blood to your venom.
In their union, I am chained 
To the will of your power—
My abyss forever the mold of your jagged shape,
The scabbard for a blood-drenched blade.

You are He—
Devourer of the sacred flame,
Amplifier of the rhythm of death,
Envy of fiends and world-killers far and wide—
He who carries the void in his eyes,
Who swallows the luck of eminent souls—
And I,
I am yours, truly,
If you crave to possess me—
For I am empty, truly
If you would only come and hollow me out.

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