Brett Lynch

Through smoke and mist, the haze of flashing lights,
amongst the sweat and heat of song and dance,
on gilded wings the fallen angel drifts.

What hopes are shared amongst the prey at night?
In ritual and rave they seek romance,
as passion swells, while drink and spirit lifts.

As demons, angels, both alike in lust,
indulge their flesh and blood desire,
one threat’ning presence mutes the rest’s appeal.

In want to forge an ancient, sacred trust,
into the golden ears he breathes his fire;
the basest dreams of beasts becoming real.

And quick to flame, the blackened heart awakes.
Like holy verse, as prayer, her soft replies
present as prey; a rabbit for the beast.

With glance entwined, the world around them breaks.
All others fade as fevered longings rise.
In both their hearts but one pursuit: the feast.

Between their fingers time and skin will pass.
A pilgrimage to promised land will lead
a stray to find a home; at least tonight.

The flames of lust, like hellfire drenched in gas,
have led divine to dine on demon seed.
Two souls entombed in sweat concede the fight.