Like blowing out a flame, you are His to tame. He is the eyes down in the dark and the intrusive thoughts of the stargazer and the tamer of the sinner. Your life was a fading echo plucked back from the dark to where lost and left alone you will be welcome to His home: the dark side of paradise where all innocence will be washed away and you will learn that death is just a feeling.

That feeling? It's the feeling of hot damp air, of a throat scratched with screaming while your nails dig into ground underneath your hands and knees, scraped with blood from the impact and the slide of your tense, taught body across rough stone down in the dark. Your hair will become a handle and though you shall scream the farthest they will make it is into His palm. And if one thought shall make it through your pleasured broken mind, your orgasm stricken thoughts and tainted soul, it will be this: This love is evil.

Eternity will pass, your body will be tossed, and from every direction you will feel His eyes, the gaze of the dark taking in the sight of beaded sweat on your taught abdomen, your bouncing breasts and heaving, red cheeks, unable to even moan any longer. Day after day, you will look away, only to be pulled by your hair, yanked into position for the invasion of a too long tongue, hot like fire from the backside of heaven. His hands will wrap about your waist with ease, force apart your legs, and alone you will remember why there are the marks of teeth about your breasts, why there are marks around your wrist and tears in your eyes when you at last wake up.

Death was just a feeling, after all. Plucked from one plane to the next and then returned, you will do as bidden to the sacrifice now, for His love is evil and there is no turning back, no being stuck in the middle. Never again will be too long, and so now you will be crossing the line to become His Angel of Babylon, blowing out the flame of others so that you can write in the dark again and again. Sin beget sin, His is the promised land and alone will you remember what awaits.

There are times where, late at night, I just get an urge to write something. I don't really have any particular end in mind when I do this, but I just gotta vomit some text, yknow? That said the benefit of poetry, if that's what this is instead of word vomit, is that the vagueness of it invites the imagination. I'm not going to go into detail here about what I'm looking for, because there isn't really anything in particular. I hardly even expect responses; I just wanted to write, but if this inspired you to write your own little blurb/poem then please send it to me. One-offs related to this or anything else rumbling in your thoughts are welcome. Maybe I can critique a prompt your working on or we can just chat about writing for a bit? And if somehow this has put a story into your head then I'm happy to hear about that too and maybe make a roleplay of it, but no promises. Let's just have a writing chat. Go ahead and read my post history if you want some more coherent stuff or some inspiration for your own writing. Otherwise have a good night! Also, if you can guess the album that inspired this then I'll let you pick another one for me to write something about. Ain't that a fun little game?