Broth of Oblivion

Sourceless, rythmless, heartless.
 I scan the desert.
 Since I, in my beasthood saw the dancers there.
 As my hands, two tiny figures, came visible,
 Like a carniver of flesh.
 A union of monstrosities.
 Curveless, boundless, eyeless.
 I flee from the source of my agony.
 Since I, in my beasthood, took form
 In new, alien anatomies.
 My limbs towering, mounting in celebration.
 Murmuring the approval of new glories;
 New threats, new intimacy.
 With this, I am fit to charm the Devil.
 Sneering down my pale face.
 I am erect with his anger and lust.
 I am the grace of them all.
 Still sneering, drooling, floating.
 Breeding curves of hell.
 And shreds of pre-human gloss.
 This softens those songs to dust.