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You are the gait poetry takes when it wants a fight.
Unbidden onset. Fleet and feral.
You are atrocities uncovered, cast in archaic forge.
You are the mirror eyed beast in every night.
Taut jawed. Slick faced. Razor toothed.
You are screams without sound in a slow motion dream.
You are virulent and merciless in vein.
You are waking bathed in painful perdition.
You are the blood I beat. The sweat I drink.
You are it.
And done.

Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


of many scenarios to fit this piece, I will not try to assign a theme. Do I see a typo? Maybe with how you see the [gait]?
As an entrance, or as a pace to measure the action? ~ Geezer.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

This feels like a very strong inner conflict.

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