There are few words that come to mind,
When I think of you. But the main one is mine.
For weeks I savored the flavor of you, hoping to escape reality’s cold clasp.
However it was fantasy’s warm hand that locked me into your perfect grasp.
It was the perfect touch of the hi-hat, and the gentle thump of the bass drums tap.
In between the rest of the beat, is where my beast sleeps.
Resting ever so solemnly until the songs climatic bridge, when he awakens to feast.
There is this moment when you are prey, and about to be devoured where eye contact is made;
That is where love or hate is created, because to love the beast is to love its nature.
And to love its nature means that you understand your true role in the hierarchy of the Beast.
To be ingested so violently and tenderly, to become a part of what makes the Beast a creature deserving of reverence.
This why when I think of you only one word comes to mind.