Wol-vriey

The Night One

He dreams of her beauty,
she dreams of her sacred duty.

He dreams of love,
she dreams of blood.
He dreams of loving her,
she dreams of eating her
fill of him.

He dreams of romance and knowing,
of nudity and showing,
what he can do for her, to her, with her,
and inside her.
Of impregnating . . . her,
of his child growing inside of her,
as she pouts with pleasure
and,
smiles at his apologies for making
her fat for a while.

She dreams of ripping her claws through his belly,
of pulping his guts into jelly.
Of laying her eggs inside him,
while he begs her to kill him
before they hatch and kill him anyway.
The taste of his bloody flesh on her tongue,
while her feathery blue wings beat
and her lips form a song,
a melody to Death and destruction.

He dreams of happiness,
but she dreams of sadness,
madness,
deadness,
darkness . . . of the void beyond all things,
where the Forgotten Ones dream.

He dreams of kissing
her,
Of loving and missing
her.
She dreams of pissing
her
poison into his veins,
of driving him insane,
with the pain of his impossible desire,
for the unholy and the profane.

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