The Minotaur

To have and to hold, to possess and command, 
no demons, only passion and man.
The monster is love, doing anything that’s said, 
Just don’t leave. 
My body built into a tomb of guilt, 
foundations made from human clay moistened 
by my own bile – 
a church asylum where I speak in tongues.
The beast in love, a Minotaur, whispering sweet lies through cracks
that branch softly in my ears,
I don’t want to do that. 
Limbs automatons set on timers,
a mouth glued by dried phlegm,
the daemon a mystery, I must be possessed –
It’s manipulation at its best.
Blank greeting cards left behind every step 
to follow through the maze,
lonesome empty envelopes litter the bricks,
Please, Follow.
The devil plucks every flower that blooms more captivating than he, 
to crush under his heavy hooves,
the only prize I can now offer
are three bruised apples
and the skin from inside my cheeks.