Gothic-Surrealism

Words of a world, strange though wonderful.

The Veil of Night

She came in the twilight.

The moon burned into the night like a white-hot ember,

 

The heavy shutters of these blue eyes

painted in a ghostly bluish-white tinge

 

Creaked ajar,

fighting the blurred sting of a fresh awakening.

 

Fallen lifeless in the spotlight of the moon;

its intensely polished stare obscured my eyesight.

 

The repetitive beat of my heart had

tuned a sense of armistice within my being.

 

I must have laid there for quite some hours…

for the last thing I remembered was the bleedful plunge of the dusking sun.

 

Melted and molded into that leather couch,

my body was airy. My hands lost their tension;

 

unlocking my fingers from their clench;

erected tranquilly in air.

 

The blood flowed smoothly.

Sounds of night withdrew its stringed tune

 

Yielding to the serene harmony that is my calm breath,

softly hissing through these parted, wordless lips.

 

As I lay, shadows of peculiar shapes and origins whirled before me

within the veil of night, as though I wasn’t alone.

 

I remember thinking my eyes were just playing tricks with obscurities,

as I swore, I saw a young woman’s face looking at me.

 

These eyes; too fatigued to have made any sense

of the pandemonium of shadows and silhouettes came to rest.

 

Illuminated in fresh candlelight, hues of gold, red and black

bled to the outer corners of my sight, giving way to a pair of shiny cat-eyes.

 

“Shhh…” I heard

from the cat-eyed silhouette before me.

 

It had to be a dream I thought,

My eyes do tell lies!

 

As if in some hypnosis,

my body was stiff in uncertain anticipations.

 

Then a grasping of my ankles by two heated shackles,

the clinks not by chains, but by her grasping hands.

 

I suddenly found before me a head of fiery, long red hair,

as it brushed my bare chest.

 

Then a hint of hot breath on my abs,

as I felt my belt coming undone.

 

The dim light playing more tricks with my eyes,

her hair looked like it was whirling in some windstorm.

 

The shackles I had assumed her hands, slid up my legs, over my knees,

riding up my thighs; swiftly parting my legs.

 

My belt unbuckled,

her head rose as she eclipsed the candle behind her.

 

Her cat-eyed silhouette staring at me,

Then clenching the leather strap of my belt between two polished-white rows of teeth;

 

Her face, oh her body! Ornate in a black turtleneck;

cut off at the shoulders and dark blue jeans tightened by a large metallic-buckled belt.

 

Oh, that grip upon my thighs,

could just make out the sharpened tips of her nails,

 

as they seemed poised

to pierce my jeans.

 

In another swift move, she grabbed the top of my pants

and yanked them to my ankles! Binding my feet by the leather belt.

 

Whatever this circumstance was, a dream, a drug

I somehow ingested, I was totally dominated.

 

Whoever she was and what kinds of hypnotics she possessed,

I was being claimed.

 

With her youthful beauty, I was enchanted.

I allowed her full reign over my body.

 

Her eyes rolling up to mine, retaining a steady stare,

her hands began to maneuver back over my thighs

 

Her head tilting up

to face mine,

 

Her skin olive and smooth, every curve perfect,

her lips plump as if they were swollen corner to corner!

 

I stared in a sort of catatonic amazement,

Parting her teeth, came a tongue glossed in juicy-red,

 

slithering out over her bottom lip,

brushing the top.

 

“I’m thirsty…” She added, as she dropped her eyes

down to the swelling in my boxers.

 

In a move that undammed rushes of ecstasy,

I raised both my hands to her head;

 

my fingers parting

her red, silky hair.

 

Caressing her scalp, I dictated her head down.

Before my boxers were pulled off, I felt light, warm, wet brushes riding up my torso.

 

Then a smirk of unparted lips, staring from those fiery green eyes,

still I swore they had touches of gleaming lust!

 

I closed my eyes,

dictated her head yet again.

 

Exposed nude in the chill of the late Fall scorched

by the gentle, warm, wet brushes.