Atoned

Caught

I was caught.
My sins exposed and soon to be punished.
There would be no absolution or forgiveness or pardon.
My secrets were out and I was caught.
In a hall full of twisted beauties and brokenness,
an angel stared through
But even she has nothing but shattered wings
I was caught.
We are all torn by that which soothes us.
I see it every day in her sullen depths.
Depths which consume everything and gives nothing,
It was an endless masquerade.
A show of pleasure and pain,
hidden behind masks by both devils and angels.
I know not which is mine till midnight reveals it.
I hurt the whole time.
Not from not having those depths take me as it has all the rest,
not from the insight that the sixth sense was supposed to give.
Not from the interesting times and reimagined hours I have spent,
I hurt just looking at her hurt.
I was caught.
My body was like any other animal in the wild’s care.
It clamors for what it already owns,
it wants that relief from pain and yet still cries for the pain’s return.
“Show me nothing of what you feel,” she says.
So I place the mask over my face.
The angels laugh and the devils weep,
because I have become something other,
Because I have dared to play their game.
The reimagined hours roll and the clock tolls by the days,
first there was ecstasy,
second came the freedom,
that can only be felt lying on the cold sands
with nothing but the stars as clothes.
Then came the hilarity it brought,
I laughed just looking at her laugh,
She was a tyrant to my humor,
a dictator to my mirth.
And I loved her wicked wit.
I was caught.
Fourthly was the emptiness,
a fulfillment racking deep through me.
I was inside her and she was over me,
nothing had felt so void other than that.
Yet through the void the mask was becoming,
a twisted beauty she was sure to run from.
“More, give me more of nothing,” she begged.
It was a whip through the softness of her touch.
Fifthly I ached for nothing more,
and gave her what she had sought from me.
Her cries were riveting,
her grasps greedy,
her licks languorously turbulent,
her tightness cruel to mine.
I was caught.
As the sixth drew effortlessly closer,
we both knew that our time was nearing to a crash.
Our routing turning through the blinding lights of the hours past,
the mask twisting by the passing seconds,
from angel to devil and to angel again.
And I with it.
“You are fire to my ice,” she droned.
Her lingering touch a scar on my flesh,
I saw only blood and pleasure.
Deception was the gift which the seventh granted.
So I played on this most mesmeric game.
She was blind and I saw.
The chains guiding her hands to my walls,
We were as were at the second.
Naked except the stars were without shine,
and her pain the only blanket I craved from the winter of her love.
“I need you to excite me,” she pleaded.
So I did.
Her torture, my heaven,
her tears, my laughs.
And her agony, my nectar.
The eighth had come with my dreams.
Without her hands, she tried her soulful eyes.
That which had once calmed my nightmares,
so I fed them to her.
Ninth, she played her wicked tongue to my ears.
Once she had sung a thousand songs of pleasure and lust,
so I burnt it behind her lips.
“I need you inside me,” was her last desire.
I knew she craved that forgotten emptiness.
The void that had salvaged me so many nights,
but midnight was without reach.
I sat watching the pleasure it brought,
seeing her bound, blind and speechless.
I was caught.
Relief, malicious relief,
tenth has carried that.
Now the angels cried their tears of blood,
the devils reveling at my submission.
The wheels comes full circle,
from devil to angel and to devil again.
Those who wept, wept for the loss of mine,
those who laughed, laughed for my freedom.
But my freedom was not till midnight.
Eleventh conveyed the hope.
But it was a vile hope that promised nothing but what is.
I desired it not.
Even as the mask stuck close to me like my own skin.
My eyes were still mine.
I dreaded midnight’s coming,
because it would bring its broken heart and bleeding soul.
I saw what has become and what will be by midnight.
“Show me nothing of what you feel,” her words still returned to me.
Beguiling and luring as it always was.
So I clawed my ears till I heard no more.
“More, give me more of nothing.”
So I let the devils eat the hands from my arms.
Even though those hands had once been all that my love had tasted.
“You are the fire to my ice,”
So I drank the flames of seventh’s gift.
And felt it poison and burn as it delved deeper.
“I need you to excite me.”
So I let the memories of our reimagined hours plague and revel in my nightmares.
The masquerade was nearing its end,
Midnight approaching, fast atop seconds’ steeds.
I could taste the salt and the iron,
from where the cracks of the mask broke my skin.
The cracks stretched and split,
each crack reminding that there was no escape.
I was caught.
My sins exposed and soon to be punished.
There would be no absolution or forgiveness or pardon.
My secrets were out and I was caught.
Midnight.
The pieces fell from face and eyes,
finally free to see all.
See all that these reimagined hours has wrought.
“Show me nothing of what you feel,” she sang in my ears yet again.

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