Two fairest, two perfect creatures,
two faeries are
taken

taken
with each other,

they are delight
and wine.

Holding, handling,
caressing full hips,

and
writhing
in blood red tulips.

A scattering of light
halts their climb

with the
shattering of dawn.

The day passes fiercely,
ferociously, even,
but the fire
below
is not

extinguished.

Their desires cannot be satisfied
so easily...

Two fairest, two perfect creatures,
two faeries are
taken,

have gone from sight

have taken mad,
have slipped away

like
thieves in the night.

Paired pixies gleaming
in the darkness,

are all consuming shadows
in the bright.

Inside, the madness
howls.

Icy,
blinding
unrevenged,
and snowy white.

Twinned furies, sisters
in name
shackled, in vain;
angry – screaming!
Chained together,
they are tear stained and slight,
frenzied with rhyme.

A smoldering, searing snare
holds them still, lusting
an arm's reach from Loneliness'
deepest well.

Senseless, hateful, eyes ablaze,
seeing through blisters,
and sulfurous rage,

memories
of terrible crime,
and soul devouring fright

behind
razor wire and brimstone
lying in wait,
for the unwary,
the unknowing,
the dreaming,

and the ill.

They are delirium and whispers,
and soured with time,

trapped in the calmest eye
of a raging violence,

before a shield of whirlwinds
and twisters,
before

a maelstrom
of words

no voice could translate.