Him. My blood flows for Him. My tears are for Him. The crimson river that slides over my fingers, past the valley where thy join this hand that is mine, but not mine, it is all for Him. The blood that I taste when He takes me is for Him. The sweat that beads on my skin is for Him. Only Him.
He is my master, my keeper. He holds my heart, my soul—if the tales are true and humans really do possess something so pointless—my everything, and He knows this. He knows this as He takes me night after night, ripping and tearing my flesh, licking up the ribbons of scarlet that form where His nails bite at my skin.
Master… my master, I dare not speak His name. Not even now when His body is gone from my sight, where the touch of Him is no longer in the back of my mind, the feel of His fingers prying into my every thought, stealing from me any chance of privacy.
I am open to him.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Gave up trying to figure it out
My head got lost along the way
.I don't know when it was that I fell beneath His power. When he found me in the desert, perhaps. When I woke, sweating at His touch. When I spoke my first words to Him in a parched voice. When I asked for such a simple thing as water from Him, what trap did I fall in to? What game did I begin to play with Him?
Worn out from giving it up
My soul, I pissed it all away.
When I fell into His trap, I gave everything away. Everything I once had was gone with the normalcy of my human side. My left hand was replaced by his brother's dismembered appendage, my mind imbued with inhuman powers. I hear His thoughts and the thoughts of others.
Still dig these shattered nerves
Pigs we get what pigs deserve
I live in irony. I am feared by those who know this shell that I am. And yet, it is not I that they should fear. It is He, the Master, which they should be wary of. He is the source of my gifts. I cower before his wrath instead of any other. My irony… I cannot hide my thoughts from him, just as others cannot from me.
I'm going all the way down
And I'm leaving today.
I am lost now, without Him. I do not know if He is truly dead or if He is only gone for now, to return once more. I cannot hear his thoughts, I cannot contact him anymore. The very thought of His death sends shivers down my spine.
A spine that no longer throbs with that dull pain I came to enjoy.
Come, come, come on, you gotta fill me up
Gotta let me inside of you
Come come, come on, you gotta fix me up
Gotta let me inside of you.
I am empty without Him. His guidance, His touch, His words. I am empty. I have no purpose, roaming shell that I am.
Still feel it all slipping away
But it doesn't matter anymore.
Blank. My mind is blank, pointless, worthless. Why do I still have these powers if there is not purpose to have them? My existence is pointless. I have naught to live for. For with is life without Him?
Everybody's still chipping away
But it doesn't matter anymore.
Life goes on around me. The dull, pathetic existence of the humans He so despised. Yes, I was doing His work for Him even before I knew of Him.
Look through these blackened eyes,
You'll see ten thousand lies.
The humans are run by false truths, blinded by their ignorance. If only they knew of Him. He would open their eyes to the bitter truth.
Their eyes would open right before He sent them to their deaths.
My lips may promise
But my heart is a whore.
I am human in all my weaknesses. My strengths I gained because of His generosity. I pretend, now, that I have left His ways, cast away the hatred for the humans He taught me to despise. I have not, however. I stay faithful to Him, even if he is perhaps dead. But I have a lasting suspicion that perhaps, somehow, He has escaped the hands of death.
Come, come, come, gotta fix me up
Gotta let me get through to you.
When the time is right, I will rise and find a new regiment of the Gung Ho Guns, better, more efficient and suited to complete His dream. I have not forgotten my pledge to Him, or what gifts and knowledge He has given me.
His dream will live on in me. I will finish His dream for Him. Although I know that my work will not be as frightening, as impressive and thorough as His, it will get done. I sure it does before I die. And I will, for I am only human.
This isn't meant to last,
This is for right now.
Through all this, however, I feel a great doubt building within me. Will He return? Will I ever feel His violent but comforting touches again?
I long for it, but I do not deserve it.
I do not hear His whispers, but that does not mean He is dead, does it?
He will never die, a god that He is.
I know it's all getting away
But it comes to me as no surprise.
But it does not surprise me that He has not returned to me. I am, after all, only a human, and I have failed Him so miserably that I should die by His hand.
No. Too much of an honor that would be. Far too much of an honor for a pathetic creature as myself.
I know what's coming to me
is never going to arrive.
No… I will not get that treat that He promised me. I will not die by His hands. I was to be the last human, He had said, because of my loyalty to Him. Because of my reverent submission to whatever He wished. Because of my unfaltering will to follow only Him.
Fresh blood through tired skin
New sweat to drown me in
I am reborn and reborn. Again and again I wake, every morning, to the ghostly touches from Him from my dreams. Everyday I rise to find no one beside me, no hands upon this flesh of mine.
Dress up this rotten carcass
Just to make is look it alive.
I wander through the streets, through the cities, dead to the world around me without His guidance, His counsel. I am unaware of the world around me, unaware of the thoughts that I hear from the masses. Stupid babble of what to eat and pathetic murmurings of the like.
Pathetic.
Come, come, come, gotta fill me up,
Gotta let me inside of you,
Come, come, come, gotta fix me up,
Gotta let me get through to you.
This isn't meant to last,
This is for right now.
I sit on this rented bed, staring at the hand that is not mine, and yet it is.
I sigh, staring at the scars that litter the pale skin of my arms and chest. I have tried again and again to repeat the pleasing pain that He used to give me. I have yet to be successful. I do not have His magic. For I am only human.
And suddenly I feel a presence about me that I remember. That I have yearned for. Behind me.
~~Legato,, me pretty pet.~~
~~Master… My Master…~~
Finally. Finally He had returned. Finally I may bow before him, fall beneath his blows and experience that erotic pain that causes me to dare to love Him, even though I am far from worthy.
