Upon my dream-throne I would lay still,
Motionless, devoid of thought or purpose,
Akin to the sad yet-corpse of an old man
Waiting to pass on alone from a life
That had so much to offer yet so little to give.

Like this I remained, like this I waited,
Like this I grieved, like this I faded,
Until I chanced upon the one would renew
The rusted gears of my life-clock:
A pretty young woman from across the street,
A horror given human form, born of the dead womb of the sky.

How could it be so sublimely written in fate,
As how the leaves of summer are destined
To cross the threshold and meet the soil of autumn,
That, from the moment we met, we were perfect together?
Not even from that moment, but long before,
When my dreaming mind waded intrepidly
Into the sphere of her maddeningly seductive influence,
And the insidious echoes of her profane slumber
Haunted and danced within my eyelids all through the night.

Long have I sought a purpose that resonates with me.
Through all my frivolous adventures and inconsequential deeds,
I have felt not the thrill of the hunt for higher existence,
Only the dreadful suffocation of my own human limitations.
Only when our eyes meet, however briefly, do I know
That I stand out among the ants of my species,
And that the higher calling I have craved all my short life
Lies in the fulfillment of her lesser, earthly desires.

Even as my longing gaze halts and fizzles
Deep within the shining abyss of her innumerable eyes,
I hope that my affection reaches her dark heart,
One that through countless eons has never known
The warmth of our sun, the warmth of a hot drink,
The warmth of a wool blanket, the warmth of flesh and blood.

I see her beauty where all others would see only her inhumanity,
Only the imperfections of her fragile, corporeal form,
Only the sickliness of her flesh, the gangliness of her limbs,
Only the writhing under her skin, the rubbery membrane that is her hair.
Only I am so privileged as to know the calming chill of her embrace,
Cuddled together between her thousands of long, thin appendages,
Caressing the thin grooves of her gills, gently wiping the mucous from her lips,
Behind which lie countless pristine rows of beautiful, alien teeth.

As have countless warlords and emperors weaved bloody chaos
In the mud and sand and grime of every continent on the planet,
As have men of God forsaken and blasphemed against their Father,
As have priests and heathens of all ages danced naked
Among scathing snowstorms and blistering, scorched lands,
As have so many laid bare the soul of humanity all in her nameless names,
I would give all within my power to see her smile.

Already gone are my eyes, that I may have
Momentarily witnessed a fraction of her beauty,
Her nuclear radiance, burning ever closer to us.
Already gone are my ears, that she may have
Filled them with sweet nothings, and the
Tortured gospel of a million dead stars.
Already gone is my mind, that we may have
Shared our feelings, melded our thoughts,
Blanketing myself in her vast, unseen presence.

Never has any man on this earth brought me such happiness,
Never shall I again feel unloved, unworthy, or undesirable,
Never will I regret all I have sacrificed to bear the strain of her sweet presence,
And never would I hesitate to to defend her honor
From those who would be so narrow-minded as to cast her out,
Branding her “unnatural,” “inhuman,” “evil,” whatever words they can use
To justify the delectable paradox of her very existence.
Even as my mortal form withers and and corrodes under her touch,
I shall remain ever faithful to my destiny as her vassal, her thrall, her lover.