The Slayer Rolls Along
by Lyle Brown

She strolled with blonde ambition through waves of red and black,
A child of wild condition, she'd always watched her back,
Without another soul in her position, she was placed upon the earthen crack,
A town with eyes for tradition, only she saw what waited to attack.

Mane of red,
her skin vanilla cream,
she watched others have lives instead,
from eyes of whirl-wind green.

They crossed in the midst of a crowded hall,
Connected they were kindred, that was all.

But Red craved more,
She wanted a touch or more,
She almost cried just for more.

The blonde could only stroll on,
Past her silent gasp the Slayer rolled along.

Smell of age,
he's stoppered foreign wine,
graceful fingers unlocked her cage,
and toughened up her spine.

He relied upon her strength in the night,
And trusted in her faith to make wrong right.

But he loved her,
He wanted more to teach her,
He simply couldn't reach her.

The blonde could only stroll on,
Past his flailing grasp the Slayer rolled along.

Look of light,
breath of amateur air,
fumbling, bumbling into her sight,
a limelight they could share.

He prayed she knew how he would die for her,
But she'd never let him cross that border.

And he watched this,
He screamed from want at this,
Yet he'd not outlast this.

The blonde could only stroll on,
Past his hardened grip the Slayer rolled along.

They were one,
two till death were Chosen,
until she would blacken the sun,
then side with erosion.

Dawn of a new day would come but too late,
And she'd lay in her unforgiven state.

But sorrow stood,
And restless passions stood,
She slipped where bastions stood.

The blonde could only stroll on,
Past her fiery lip the Slayer rolled along.

Down he crawled,
but she pulled him top-side,
and brought forth life from where it stalled,
yet lust would change his stride.

He rose again with undead soul intact,
But words said last and this he'd not retract.

He left her cold,
He felt her ever cold,
Always forever cold.

The blonde could only stumble on,
Past her lover's tracks the Slayer rolled along.

He was gold,
model of perfection,
and they bathed in peace he controlled,
until his correction.

He was the second to leave her stranded,
His own dull perfection disbanded.

And she had holes,
She'd created these holes,
Needed to fill these holes and warm the cold...

But her Witch had moved on,
And her Watcher was gone,
Her fumbling Zeppo was taken,
The Vampire had left shaken,
And her Slayer peered through bars,
While the Soldier crossed stars...

The blonde could no longer go on,
Past these new barracks the Slayer fell to her knees and cried.
The Slayer fell to her knees and died.

Caper defunct,
She rose from the dead,
With no sense of life,
Only missing Heaven's bed.

Until with a start she felt two pinpoints in her weakened heart:

Peroxide strife

and
Younger things,
An after-life
with
Key-stroked wings.
A punk swagger
and
Twilight eyes,
Chipped, a haggler
with
God-sent ties.

This could last forever,
Sincestious Endeavor,
The old enemy with hidden affection,
The pseudo-relation without discretion,
Dangerous Wherever,
This could last forever.

She'd stroll with love's ambition through waves of blood and night,
A woman of wild condition, her lovers would help her fight,
With two other souls at her position, she would face the earthen height,
A threesome with backs toward tradition, three sought evil with powers of Dark and Light.

And the Slayer rolls along...