Legions, drenched in semen,
Filled the space between the mortal
That couldn't slice off his own hand
And that forgotten, tepid portal.

He walked alone, though with a comrade
That he placed upon his side,
Nothing more than a mere shadow
That longed for some sort of pride.

I was that fool, that wretched crack
That he tripped over everyday,
And I felt none other than vain bastions
That could not be satisfied in gray.

Blisters to be felt through the dam,
That no one saw but myself,
Were the only things that made me whole
In resurrecting what was his stealth.

Though, in theory, I was the mistake,
I felt that the guilt was somehow misplaced,
As no one trusts the shit-stained sorrow
Of the blame he had erased.

But I saw, through error, that this is not
The path I reign, the lust I careen,
For no one can pace through thicker tracks
If no one stops to fuck the queen.