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this hurricane's chasing us all underground - Euryale - 01-27-2019
I'll tell you my sins & you can sharpen your knife
WHEN SHE TURNS TOWARD THE FACE OF DAWN, TO LET HER HUNGRY EYES LINGER ALONG THE CARIBBEAN-BLUE COAST, HER GAZE DRINKS THE RUBY SUNRISE THAT DROWNS THE SKY IN VIOLENT, VISCERAL PRAYER. WHEN SHE TURNS TO FACE THE SUN. HER LIPS CURVES UPWARDS INTO A DEVILIVISH SMIRK; FEELING THE BRUSH OF SATIN LIGHT, HOTLY, CARESS HER SKIN LIKE THE WINGS OF A HUNDRED, STORMING FIREFLIES RUSHED TOO QUICKLY, TOO SUDDENLY OVER FLESH.
TODAY, SHE DANCES IN THE RED GARDENS OF TERRASTELLA. DRINKING IN THE RAW, MORNING LIGHT. SHE DANCES AND SLIDES PAST THE TREES, IN A LACONIC PURR OF WHITE AND SCARLET. BREATHING SOFT, FERAL BREATHS, AS SHE WOVE THROUGH THE DEEP SHADOWS OF ITS STILL-BEATING WILDERNESS. IN THE BACKGROUND, EMBLAZONED BY FIERY HUES, THE OCEANS WERE NOTHING MORE THAN A STEADY THRUM OF LANGUIDLY, LAPPING WAVES; WAVES, THAT SMOTHERED THE SHORES. DRUMMED, AND SANG IN TUNE WITH THE RHYTHM OF HER HEART.
TODAY, THE SUMMER HEAT DOES NOT RELENT; HOT, SWEET, STICKY WITH GILDED WARMTH. RED HITS THE PALACE IN A BURST OF SMOLDERING FIRE AS SUNLIGHT WEAVES FEVOR, THROUGH THE BOORISH CLIFFS. ITS CARESSIVE TORRIDITY, SWELTERING RAW GOLD THROUGH THE SINEWS OF ITS GRANULAR-SCULPTED HALLS, AND ROCKY CREVASSE. AND SHE WATCHES THE SUNFIRE, AS IT DRIPS LIKE YELLOW BONES FROM SLIT FISSURES UPON THE CLIFFS AND MOUNTAINS.
UPON THE FERAL SAVAGERY OF HER CURVES, THE RAYS OF SUNLIGHT, SPILLS, IN smooth curves of blinding, acid-white. tracing THE LIGHTENING EDGES OF HER SPINE. SLEEK WITH HOT-WHITE WARMTH AND STEEL AND BLOOD. SHE IS THE VIOLENT, CRIMSON SONG THAT DANCES WICKEDLY THROUGH THE HALLOWED HALLS. HOW HER HEART POUNDS IN HER CHEST. HOW HER MIND, HER THOUGHTS, STRAY BEYOND REALITY - PLAGUED, BY THE SCREAMS OF WAR. EVEN AMIDST THE GOLDEN BREATH OF DAWN, THE BITTER SONGS OF REVELATION, TORMENTS HER EVERY WAKING HOUR.
SUDDENLY, SHE IS FAR AWAY FROM HERE. SHE IS FAR FROM THE BEAUTY OF TERRASTELLA. SHE IS FAR FROM THE PURIFYING MELODY OF THE SEAS. THE LOW WHISPER OF ITS INTIMATELY RUSHING TIDE; THE DEEP WAVES OF AZURE, THAT THRASHED GENTLY ASUNDER, DREAM AFTER DREAM AFTER OPIATE DREAM.
SUDDENLY, INSTEAD OF BEAUTY, SHE SEES BLOOD. INSTEAD OF ROSES, SHE SMELLS GUNPOWDER. SHE REMEMBERS THE WAR. SHE REMEMBERS EVERY VISCERAL DETAIL. EVERY FLOW OF DARK, CRIMSON BLOOD, DAMPENING HER SKIN AND THE SCENT OF RUINATION AND DEEP, RED TERROR. THE MEMORIES OF BATTLE-FORGED ARMIES. BROKEN CIVILIANS. TORN CIVILIZATIONS. HER SISTERS, HER MOTHER; SUCCUMBING, TO ITS IRRESISTIBLE DESTRUCTION AND INEVITABLE FATE.
SHE REMEMBERS THE STREETS HAD LAIN, EMPTY. BARREN. MOLTEN CARNAGE, POURING FORTH, FROM THE OBSIDIAN SHROUD. THE BLACKNESS. THE SALIVATING JAWS OF HORROR, THAT CONSUMED THE DYING AND TORTURED THE DESPAIRED. SHE REMEMBERS THE BEASTS OF WAR, THAT DRENCHED THE HEAVENS IN ITS VENOMOUS EMULATIONS. CULLING SOULS, WITH EACH WHISPER OF GRISLY END. SHE REMEMBERS THE SMELL OF DEATH. HOT, AND HEAVY, AND MINGLED WITH RANK DEBRIS AND ETERNAL ROT. TWISTING THE INSIDE OF HER STOMACH IN TIGHT, KNOTTING FISTS.
DESTRUCTION, LAY EVERLASTING. RUIN BREATHES ETERNAL. ASH, FALLS DOWN LIKE DEATHLY-PALE SNOW. LOITERING AND DUSTING RUMINATED BUILDINGS AND SHATTERED HALLWAYS FULL OF BROKEN GLASS, AND BLOOD-STAINED CARCASSES. SUCH A DELOSATE STRETCH OF APOCALYPTIC VACUITY. A SILENT HILL OF CONSTERNATION. THE GOREY NOTHINGNESS, THAT WHICH MIRRORS THE EMPTINESS IN HER HEART. IN HER BODY. IN HER SOUL. SHE REMEMBERS IT ALL AND HER HEART BOTH SCREAMS AND ACHES WITH A WILD, UNCONTROLLABLE VENGEANCE. SHE IS HUNGRY FOR RELEASE. WILD, FOR RETRIBUTION.
O, WHEN SHE TURNS AWAY FROM THE OCEAN, SHE CAN STILL HEAR THEIR SCREAMS. AN ECHOED FABRICATION, VIOLENTLY TEARING INTO HER REALITY. WHISPER AFTER WHISPER AFTER SHRILL WHISPER. BROKEN, WITH THE PRAYERS OF THE FORGOTTEN. OF THE DAMNED. THE SHADOWS LEAVE HER MIND; YET SHE CANNOT LEAVE ITS DARKNESS - SHE KNOWS SHE CAN'T BE SAVED. THESE WALLS WERE NOTHING MORE THAN A CAGE; A CAGE, TO SAVAGELY ENTICE THE HUNGER THAT IS OUR WICKED EURYALE.
WHISPER AFTER WHISPER, SHE WANTS TO PULL AWAY FROM THE VIOLENT REVERIE. TO PULL AWAY FROM THE SIREN CRIES OF VIOLENCE AND HUNGER THAT CONSUMES HER MIND. AND THUS, WITH TEMPERED GRACE, HER BODY BRUSHES THRU THE GARDENS WITH A FERAL SIGH. SENSUOUS AND EARTHLY; SHE BOWS HER CROWN, AND MOVES IN a SASHAY OF DEVILISH ABANDON. SHE BREATHES IN THE FIERY MORNING LIGHT. INHALE. EXHALE. SHE BREATHES SOFTLY, AS AIR EXPANDS THE LITHE DEFINITIONS OF HER SO-GIRLISH SKELETON.
HER HAND IS SILK. HER NAILS ARE KNIVES - STAINED, IN BLOOD. THE WOLF'S GRASP COMES IN THE FORM OF IRON. HER BODY IS EUPHORIC; LACED IN SCARS - TRACED, IN VICIOUS MALADY. SHE UNFURLS LIKE A PYTHON OF WILD LILAC, BEFORE THE RUSH OF SCARLET. WITH DARK CURVES, TWISTING IN THE LANGUAGE OF VIPERS - HOW SHE WRITHES ALONG THE RAW PATHWAYS; HER BODY OF VERMILLION, DESCENDING, AND TATTOOED SNAKES MADE MANIFEST.
RIBBONS OF JADE, SNAKE BESIDE HER THIGHS; BRUSHING HER FLANKS IN A SMOOTH CARESS OF VIOLENT SATIN - HOW THEY FLOW BEHIND HER LIKE A RAVISHING GOWN. ALL SILKEN CURVES, AND RED ANGLES OF HER, SWATHED IN THEIR UNABASHED, SEMI-TRANSPARENCY. THE MEMORY OF EURYALE'S FRAGRANCE, LINGERS LIKE THE AFTERTASTE OF CANDIED SANGUINE. THOUGH FAR MORE TAINTED, FORE IRON LAY BENEATH ITS SOFT PETALS.
SHE SMELLS OF BLOOD, CARAMEL AND DEEP, JASMINE FLOWERS. SMOULDERING, AND PERMEATING DELICATELY; THE SWEET, SACCHARINE LINGERING OF ETHEREAL FEMINITY - BATHED, IN HOT IRON. ACROSS THE EARTH, SHE PADS WITH A GROWL. HOOVES LIKE TALONS, SCRATCH THE HARD SOIL. HER SONGS OF CARMINE VENOM, UNFURLING IN THE SILENT KISS OF HER WAKE. SHE DOES NOT SLEEP IN THE CASTLE WITH THE OTHERS, BUT HUNTS AND PROWLS IN THE WILDWOODS, BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.
THE SHE-WOLF HAS SPENT HER EVENINGS HUNTING THE ANIMALS OF THE FORESTS WITH her LILITH. SKINNING THEM, THEN BRINGING THEIR SKINS TO LAY LAVISH UPON THE FLOOR OF HER BEDROOM. Even THE GARDEN WALLS PULSATES WITH THE PERFUME OF HER ARRIVAL. EVEN THE RED ROSES, GROWING WILD WITHIN THE GARDENS, QUIVERS AT THE intimacy OF HER TOUCH. EURYALE MOVES RESTLESSLY, RUNNING HER BODY AGAINST THE CASTLE WALLS. THE SIREN LETS A PURR LEAVE HER LIPS. SAVOURING THE COOL OF SHADOWS, THAT MAY SOOTHE HER WEARY MIND.
HER LIPS, CURVES AROUND A SILENT PRAYER AND HER VOICE, SOFTER THAN A SONG, DRIFTS INTO THE MORNING LIGHT. into the brewing waves of relentless oceans, that howled with the hunger of her heart.
TODAY, SHE DANCES IN THE RED GARDENS OF TERRASTELLA. DRINKING IN THE RAW, MORNING LIGHT. SHE DANCES AND SLIDES PAST THE TREES, IN A LACONIC PURR OF WHITE AND SCARLET. BREATHING SOFT, FERAL BREATHS, AS SHE WOVE THROUGH THE DEEP SHADOWS OF ITS STILL-BEATING WILDERNESS. IN THE BACKGROUND, EMBLAZONED BY FIERY HUES, THE OCEANS WERE NOTHING MORE THAN A STEADY THRUM OF LANGUIDLY, LAPPING WAVES; WAVES, THAT SMOTHERED THE SHORES. DRUMMED, AND SANG IN TUNE WITH THE RHYTHM OF HER HEART.
TODAY, THE SUMMER HEAT DOES NOT RELENT; HOT, SWEET, STICKY WITH GILDED WARMTH. RED HITS THE PALACE IN A BURST OF SMOLDERING FIRE AS SUNLIGHT WEAVES FEVOR, THROUGH THE BOORISH CLIFFS. ITS CARESSIVE TORRIDITY, SWELTERING RAW GOLD THROUGH THE SINEWS OF ITS GRANULAR-SCULPTED HALLS, AND ROCKY CREVASSE. AND SHE WATCHES THE SUNFIRE, AS IT DRIPS LIKE YELLOW BONES FROM SLIT FISSURES UPON THE CLIFFS AND MOUNTAINS.
UPON THE FERAL SAVAGERY OF HER CURVES, THE RAYS OF SUNLIGHT, SPILLS, IN smooth curves of blinding, acid-white. tracing THE LIGHTENING EDGES OF HER SPINE. SLEEK WITH HOT-WHITE WARMTH AND STEEL AND BLOOD. SHE IS THE VIOLENT, CRIMSON SONG THAT DANCES WICKEDLY THROUGH THE HALLOWED HALLS. HOW HER HEART POUNDS IN HER CHEST. HOW HER MIND, HER THOUGHTS, STRAY BEYOND REALITY - PLAGUED, BY THE SCREAMS OF WAR. EVEN AMIDST THE GOLDEN BREATH OF DAWN, THE BITTER SONGS OF REVELATION, TORMENTS HER EVERY WAKING HOUR.
SUDDENLY, SHE IS FAR AWAY FROM HERE. SHE IS FAR FROM THE BEAUTY OF TERRASTELLA. SHE IS FAR FROM THE PURIFYING MELODY OF THE SEAS. THE LOW WHISPER OF ITS INTIMATELY RUSHING TIDE; THE DEEP WAVES OF AZURE, THAT THRASHED GENTLY ASUNDER, DREAM AFTER DREAM AFTER OPIATE DREAM.
SUDDENLY, INSTEAD OF BEAUTY, SHE SEES BLOOD. INSTEAD OF ROSES, SHE SMELLS GUNPOWDER. SHE REMEMBERS THE WAR. SHE REMEMBERS EVERY VISCERAL DETAIL. EVERY FLOW OF DARK, CRIMSON BLOOD, DAMPENING HER SKIN AND THE SCENT OF RUINATION AND DEEP, RED TERROR. THE MEMORIES OF BATTLE-FORGED ARMIES. BROKEN CIVILIANS. TORN CIVILIZATIONS. HER SISTERS, HER MOTHER; SUCCUMBING, TO ITS IRRESISTIBLE DESTRUCTION AND INEVITABLE FATE.
SHE REMEMBERS THE STREETS HAD LAIN, EMPTY. BARREN. MOLTEN CARNAGE, POURING FORTH, FROM THE OBSIDIAN SHROUD. THE BLACKNESS. THE SALIVATING JAWS OF HORROR, THAT CONSUMED THE DYING AND TORTURED THE DESPAIRED. SHE REMEMBERS THE BEASTS OF WAR, THAT DRENCHED THE HEAVENS IN ITS VENOMOUS EMULATIONS. CULLING SOULS, WITH EACH WHISPER OF GRISLY END. SHE REMEMBERS THE SMELL OF DEATH. HOT, AND HEAVY, AND MINGLED WITH RANK DEBRIS AND ETERNAL ROT. TWISTING THE INSIDE OF HER STOMACH IN TIGHT, KNOTTING FISTS.
DESTRUCTION, LAY EVERLASTING. RUIN BREATHES ETERNAL. ASH, FALLS DOWN LIKE DEATHLY-PALE SNOW. LOITERING AND DUSTING RUMINATED BUILDINGS AND SHATTERED HALLWAYS FULL OF BROKEN GLASS, AND BLOOD-STAINED CARCASSES. SUCH A DELOSATE STRETCH OF APOCALYPTIC VACUITY. A SILENT HILL OF CONSTERNATION. THE GOREY NOTHINGNESS, THAT WHICH MIRRORS THE EMPTINESS IN HER HEART. IN HER BODY. IN HER SOUL. SHE REMEMBERS IT ALL AND HER HEART BOTH SCREAMS AND ACHES WITH A WILD, UNCONTROLLABLE VENGEANCE. SHE IS HUNGRY FOR RELEASE. WILD, FOR RETRIBUTION.
O, WHEN SHE TURNS AWAY FROM THE OCEAN, SHE CAN STILL HEAR THEIR SCREAMS. AN ECHOED FABRICATION, VIOLENTLY TEARING INTO HER REALITY. WHISPER AFTER WHISPER AFTER SHRILL WHISPER. BROKEN, WITH THE PRAYERS OF THE FORGOTTEN. OF THE DAMNED. THE SHADOWS LEAVE HER MIND; YET SHE CANNOT LEAVE ITS DARKNESS - SHE KNOWS SHE CAN'T BE SAVED. THESE WALLS WERE NOTHING MORE THAN A CAGE; A CAGE, TO SAVAGELY ENTICE THE HUNGER THAT IS OUR WICKED EURYALE.
WHISPER AFTER WHISPER, SHE WANTS TO PULL AWAY FROM THE VIOLENT REVERIE. TO PULL AWAY FROM THE SIREN CRIES OF VIOLENCE AND HUNGER THAT CONSUMES HER MIND. AND THUS, WITH TEMPERED GRACE, HER BODY BRUSHES THRU THE GARDENS WITH A FERAL SIGH. SENSUOUS AND EARTHLY; SHE BOWS HER CROWN, AND MOVES IN a SASHAY OF DEVILISH ABANDON. SHE BREATHES IN THE FIERY MORNING LIGHT. INHALE. EXHALE. SHE BREATHES SOFTLY, AS AIR EXPANDS THE LITHE DEFINITIONS OF HER SO-GIRLISH SKELETON.
HER HAND IS SILK. HER NAILS ARE KNIVES - STAINED, IN BLOOD. THE WOLF'S GRASP COMES IN THE FORM OF IRON. HER BODY IS EUPHORIC; LACED IN SCARS - TRACED, IN VICIOUS MALADY. SHE UNFURLS LIKE A PYTHON OF WILD LILAC, BEFORE THE RUSH OF SCARLET. WITH DARK CURVES, TWISTING IN THE LANGUAGE OF VIPERS - HOW SHE WRITHES ALONG THE RAW PATHWAYS; HER BODY OF VERMILLION, DESCENDING, AND TATTOOED SNAKES MADE MANIFEST.
RIBBONS OF JADE, SNAKE BESIDE HER THIGHS; BRUSHING HER FLANKS IN A SMOOTH CARESS OF VIOLENT SATIN - HOW THEY FLOW BEHIND HER LIKE A RAVISHING GOWN. ALL SILKEN CURVES, AND RED ANGLES OF HER, SWATHED IN THEIR UNABASHED, SEMI-TRANSPARENCY. THE MEMORY OF EURYALE'S FRAGRANCE, LINGERS LIKE THE AFTERTASTE OF CANDIED SANGUINE. THOUGH FAR MORE TAINTED, FORE IRON LAY BENEATH ITS SOFT PETALS.
SHE SMELLS OF BLOOD, CARAMEL AND DEEP, JASMINE FLOWERS. SMOULDERING, AND PERMEATING DELICATELY; THE SWEET, SACCHARINE LINGERING OF ETHEREAL FEMINITY - BATHED, IN HOT IRON. ACROSS THE EARTH, SHE PADS WITH A GROWL. HOOVES LIKE TALONS, SCRATCH THE HARD SOIL. HER SONGS OF CARMINE VENOM, UNFURLING IN THE SILENT KISS OF HER WAKE. SHE DOES NOT SLEEP IN THE CASTLE WITH THE OTHERS, BUT HUNTS AND PROWLS IN THE WILDWOODS, BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.
THE SHE-WOLF HAS SPENT HER EVENINGS HUNTING THE ANIMALS OF THE FORESTS WITH her LILITH. SKINNING THEM, THEN BRINGING THEIR SKINS TO LAY LAVISH UPON THE FLOOR OF HER BEDROOM. Even THE GARDEN WALLS PULSATES WITH THE PERFUME OF HER ARRIVAL. EVEN THE RED ROSES, GROWING WILD WITHIN THE GARDENS, QUIVERS AT THE intimacy OF HER TOUCH. EURYALE MOVES RESTLESSLY, RUNNING HER BODY AGAINST THE CASTLE WALLS. THE SIREN LETS A PURR LEAVE HER LIPS. SAVOURING THE COOL OF SHADOWS, THAT MAY SOOTHE HER WEARY MIND.
HER LIPS, CURVES AROUND A SILENT PRAYER AND HER VOICE, SOFTER THAN A SONG, DRIFTS INTO THE MORNING LIGHT. into the brewing waves of relentless oceans, that howled with the hunger of her heart.