my guts feel twisted up in knots as i sit here crying from words of beauty that cut through me like a hailstorm of rapturous shrapnel fired directly into my heart

tapping out words of the most exquisite sorrowful joy onto a screen i can not see to a world that doesn’t see in a universe i fear doesn’t exist except for those sweet refrains that swoop through me as if my heart is a set of chimes on a hurricane

damnation and true repentance for a life of shadows suddenly brought into technicolor splendor by her sheer will and ability, i fear the power and beauty have severed my optic nerve and sent my aching head into an irreversible tailspin

and all i can do is blindly go where they take me, unable to fight and wouldn’t if i could, this flush of once absent divinity purifying and cleansing me, branding me as her devout servant, indentured willingly to her prose like a marionette to a control bar, happily dancing for scraps at her table