She has
Weltered walls.
Shattering along Her weighted depth.
Lighting dashes above.
My shadow.
Cascades.
On Her metal Skin.
I pull myself.
Sword in hand.
Up.
Shattered.
Wailing light.
With careless effort,
She Laughs at me.
I push Up.
She crashes around me.
My rusted nails
bite
into her wasted root.
I know I’m not the first.
My own armored
skin
weighs
me
down.
With great flair
she
brushes
And shrugs.
Weightlessly,
I flail into her blackbrown moat.
Bodies float
around me.
Previous affairs, no doubt.
Rusted tint coats my weary tongue.
Underneath.
A dim light beackons.
With abandon
I release my steel.
And descend
Mightily
into Her Sacred Dreamscape.