Icon of Coil: twin destroyers [sian]

September 18, 2002

twin destroyers [sian]

[wyrmpit | gathering room]

binge
cringe
on the fringe
sloppy mincing.... eyedropping
biopsy
cyclops overlooks optic options...

the words slowly leak from the oversized speakers, Galliard curled on his side beneath the blanket, staring blankly at Skinny Puppy's wisdom creep crawling across the floor, mismatched eyes seeing nothing (remembering everything) the only movement the even, rhythmic (blue) breath

Its always a struggle.

Breathe.
Heartbeats.
Motion.

A push against what wasn't and now what is. Primal Divinity. The door seemes to shudder minutes before she passes through it as if in silent contemplation of its demise (...Run shiva cometh.)And she rests against the splintered frame, door long ago ripped off its hinges totally unaware (...or the power that emanates.) of the paradox between her easy pose and the trembling reality of how soon it could-would-should change.

The universe holds its breath.

a shudder
a ripple
a premonistic grace that travels through the air a thousand shockwaves trembling against his skin (the native drums, the Amazon cometh) pulling mismatched eyes back into focus, tilting towards the door

the lean body rises, twisting in slow writhe to sit
watching
waiting
the disciple at the flood gates of her violent torrent (such a smile she brings to poet's lips) blankets cast from naked torso (new scars revealed) to pool around denim wrapped waist, silent invitation in the movement to make room upon the couch

Amazon.

Like lions and Maenads, like wolves and women. Power and destiny teeth and blood (..They came to herald the birth of the Wine god.) She moves towards him now lips parting in words that are immediatly soaked up through speakers trembling expulsion.

(..they can to rip him to bits.)

[you. okay.]

Its her face that makes it a question.

a sound
something so rare from his throat these days (as if his inspiration forsake) roiling between them in smokey greeting, bubbling up from some dark depth to bathe her skin in rumbling, thunderous, purring tones

fingers stroke fabric taught over bronzed, steel thigh (pulling her close) teeth grazing the crest of her hip, eyes peering from the landscape of her body towards the midnight gaze of the (his) violent goddess

[now that you are here]

Its the rumbling she acquieses to, the thunderous call of pre-language communication, driven toward it as if it were perhaps the single tiny window in the cell of her muted world.

Submerge.

Stretches against him the fabric of his clothing ripping ( not off or a purpose..) with her motion, everything about seemed to edge pain-bright. Her nearness was fire that could only consume.

a smile all that is left on the surface

the rest plummeting, diving into the very depths of beast.... animal.... spiral..... their speech gutteral, primal, driven on instinct alone this language without words (his body opens to hers) grip tightening and drawing her nearer (offering skin to her guilty, devastating pleasures) talons blazing delicate trails across her back

[i've missed you]

nose drawing along the stretch of her neck, burrowing (submitting) beneath strong curve of jaw (drowning, now, in her scent) until teeth gather skin between them (choking on her taste), eyes bright (clean) although half-closed in some dark serenity

sisterloverpackmatetwindestroyer

There must have been a legend.

Some story of history past--where a warrior of surpassing intellect and great strength wallked the earth. Too great was his strength that the Wyld in its infinite jealousy divided it into two..

there must have been.

She finally settles against him.

[..too idle in lab.]

Whispered words caress the shell of is ear.

there must have been
it could have been no other way

how many lifetimes had been spent apart before the two halves found one another again, rekindled, rejoined (reveling in her warmth against him) - all but rebirthed into the single entity

the single destroyer

curling into her whisper, his tongue reaching to slide across her neck (ingesting her taste, making them one) before throttled sound vibrates softly against skin

[where shall we go?]

he does not want to be idle

It rolls through her body those words those sounds those thoughts. (...like earthquakes.) with shattering finality and the lingering possibility of more and then less and then more (Always more.) Her breath against his cheek (dangerously) hot and warning all at once.

[Find. Enemy.]

his face turns to bury against her neck, sharing his pleasure with the smile that crawls and spreads (poison) across her flesh, the quiver that runs aftershocks through his frame, lips pressed in kiss (teeth closing in bite)

and he rises, strength bringing the Destroyer with him (soulmate) the first steps this decimating dance they will lead, bale-fire trembling crescendo in mismatched eyes

[sing me your song once more]

malicious (loving) intent gracing the scythe smile, the seductive (bloody) symphony that lays wait beneath the surfaces of their skins, black leviathans walking death beneath night's velvet sky
drawing her

towards the doors
towards the ground above
towards the enemy
Posted by asher at September 18, 2002 12:00 AM

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