Weeping Willow Woman

*** do not invest yourself in the abyss ***

Who does the moon set on when the sky is clear of all space debris. The morning sets on your drunken escapades and no one cares, darling, no one. What kind of freedom do you enjoy from the hearsay. There are beasts, half-human, that decipher codes for near-humans, demigods with special tickets for the labyrinth. Come on in, screams the ticket booth degenerate, grabs the ancient Princess and smacks a kiss on her lascivious lips. She giggles and skips into the mouth of the ravenous minotaur, enjoying his slobbering spit over her slippery trap.

The King sits with the Prince. They discuss world travel and international politics. The two agree on all things. They share a love for the Princess that prevents them from wondering where she is when she pays her way into the labyrinth and into the minotaurs mouth. The King boasts about the structure that holds the beast. He didn’t kill the minotaur, he explains, because it was better to punish him.

Now, unbeknownst to his majesty, the beasts licks and spits on the girl. She cries when she feel a beast within her. She runs back to the beast with tears dripping. The beast feeds on her beastly fetus and cries with joy. This ain’t no punishment, he thinks, gargles the royal blue blood and has the princess one more time.

She will return. She always does. As long as she can keep pretension handy in her bag, she will want a beast to make her feel alive.