I see him draped in black, iron clad armour,
Scourging me, with his steely gaze,
As though I were his Lady of Shalott and he my Sir Lancelot,
I have never felt so frail before.
Often I try to look away but he captures my soul,
Devouring my essence, I try to escape;
I feel my senses go numb, yet I stand frozen,
This is because he is the anchor to my ship.
There were moments when my flesh yearned for comfort,
My sight blinds me when he stands there gazing at me,
My heart flutters as though a butterfly flaps her wings;
Yet my desire to be consumed by him is unconsummated.
Why has he, a stronger hold on me than my faith?
“It is my design”, he says, “For you, are my muse”,
Am I his Mona Lisa, Da Vinci’s pride?
Or am I a barren landscape of Van Gogh?
“You are neither a painting nor nature, but something beyond”
I almost believe him, had he not read my mind,
“Why then am I a predator to your prey my Ravenstag?”
He does not answer; he looks away as if searching, pondering, planning
My heart races as he draws near me now,
I try to run away, gallop fast as my hooves can carry me.
He breathes fire into me; a dragon of considerable repute,
My feelings betray me, I cannot guard them, or me, I am vulnerable;
As he lays his finger on my skin, I erupt in flames,
I know better than to give him the satisfaction.
He smells the burn inside me, I almost shy away;
He caresses me like a mother to her babe.
“It is human nature to feel abandoned by their desires”,
I know what he whispers in my ear is true.
I am sure he was made to torment me, hound me, crush me;
I relinquish mine thoughts, for I crave more than his mere touch.
I look at him, before I was looking beyond him,
For I dreaded what would happen if I looked straight into his soul.
His eyes encapsulate my darkest wishes,
He smiles wryly as if to mock me, taunt me, consume me
He traces each part of my flesh, as poets their verses,
Each touch, a different texture to my landscape;
Each movement creating its own big bang.
Every crusade to my deepest fears, it feels almost blasphemous.
I moan, when he breathes on me,
But I also weep in silence, a deep chasm I fall in,
Why does he need to be my Lucifer?
“You want what I mercilessly give you”
I lie there, impatient as he circles me with his blade,
It tickles me until there is an ache inside of me,
He plucks on my every sigh, every groan,
I seem to lose myself in the abyss of his embrace.
He opens himself up, as if an Eagle its wings,
High above the Heavens and the skies, I seek him.
I raise myself up to feel his face, his warmth.
He resists but he knows, I know I am playing his game.
“Why are you dressed to kill me, my Raven?
Am I Paul to your Christian? Or Michelangelo to your Vatican?”
He answers me, softly as if he were a Swan gliding Lethe,
“I am but your unconscious, your lust, your sin”
I am too amazed to even speak up any words,
He hushes me down, as he resumes his noble work.
He tears my fabric, tailoring every cut, every stich.
I tear at my epiphany, he is my Saviour.
He illuminates my inner essence, knows my aspirations,
I sense him smelling my inspiration as being him,
Becoming him, for to be him, is to let go
I hold my breath as he uncloaks me, I do not feel naked.
I do not feel naked, as I was already bare to him.
Baring my turmoil, my angst, everything for him to see,
He knows me well, he knows me oh too well;
For it is as easy with him as breathing in divinity.
It has been a lingering journey, I anticipate the future,
He calmly unshackles me from shying;
My Ravenstag is a demon, my inner Sinner.
Understanding me is his greatest gift to me.
I lie under the blanket of stars; the night is dark and wild.
The moths fly away, were they watching us?
The fireflies, hearken light but we want none of it,
All we hunger after, is a void to fuel our outcast.
The wind howls as he draws his sword on me,
Circling, moving, slithering snakelike;
I writhe for there is so much to learn, to kill,
I made the deal with the Devil within.
Ecstasy it creates, damnation it becomes.
I squirm at his man; he yearns for my woman,
He leads me to the grimmest corners he has.
But there is a cunning smile, I can’t shake.
A valley opens beneath him; he licks his tongue, his chapped lips,
He moistens them; I hope I am the apple to his Eve.
The nectar to his damnation, his hope for his hopeless
But he isn’t ruthless; he is merciful to me, his Queen.
The hum of my beating heart, is audible to his aura,
Tangible, intertwined with my longing to versify him.
There were moments of doubts with regards to my conflict,
But the conflict rose due to me, not seeing the unseen.
The union of two souls they say is a Divine accession,
The marriage of Shakespeare two minds, is Holy Scripture.
The sceptre, the scythe, the reaping, it produces vibrancy in me.
He tastes my flesh, I taste his Cannibal.
We play mind games, bloodbaths, gladiators in the arena,
We are brutal, savages, born out of monstrous relationships.
We become each other and unify our Cross as Christ did his Apostles;
Proud of our honestly, we bring forth chasms of Hellenic fire
(He is mine and I am his, he teaches me wisdom beyond humanity).
I still lay, no terror beseeches me to retreat, I am no coward,
I am not afraid; fear is not in my nature.
I am enthralled by his inspection of my material;
I resurrect my long forgotten succubus, he becomes Incubus,
(We lust not for fleshly wants but blood our Holy Water we purge ourselves with).
My Hide is for him to savour, he will do mine individual justice,
When all else fails, he shall remain the victor
But he knows, his end is near, I tear my dress at the pew.
The aisle is long, he discovers, the Swan song as we see above the starry skies.
The meteor falls down from Eden, a sign for someone’s demise,
All panoramas will succumb to a grey area, inhabited by beasts .
“Our inhibitions do us no good, we must seek the inner mayhem”.
My Ravenstag is veracious, as we leave together into the wild sea
(To the point of no return, no remorse, no guilt but bare passions).
I call him my liege, my Morning star, my lover, my killer, my Demonic Angel.
The chaos is another peace, war another humane notion,
(A name we give, for humans are cruel, animals innocent).
The honey dew darling he is, his eyes searching within me,
Speaking my ballad, my lullaby, my symphony, my dirge, his name “I am Hannibal Lecter”.
Note: I am inspired by Hannibal and his view on humanity. This is my tribute to Mads Mikkelsen’s Hannibal as seen in NBC’s Hannibal by Bryan Fuller. I hope that this reaches to them both and Hugh Dancy as well. Would be the world to me!
P.S. Say no to Plagiarism….