Languid sermons streamed from lavender lips,
    hypnotizing, speaking of torrid battles wagered . 
    and banalities anguished by molten lovers
        and extolled victims, controlled by intoxicating demons.

The visions were of his portentous creation;
     he was both malevolent dictator and shrewd conqueror,
        mixing toxic equivocations and perplexing potions,
           spinning fabrications into golden scepters.

It was a blatant sucker punch, the sort that blasted my guts,
    a duplicitous suggestion that I would concede
    to his persuasive sliver tongue, proffering
        my unblemished soul for wicked werewolves to thrash.

I was bamboozled, befuddled, bewildered, as he heartlessly
    maneuvered his ice queen to check my charismatic king,
    beckoning his scrupulous defectors, judicious benefactors
        of my solemn spirit, now employed as brainless pawns,
        soured by tainted complicity, shrouded
            in impervious armor, to brashly overthrow
            the inked baron of embedded emotions.

After the occupation, before my dance with death was consummated,
    I liberated my baby blues, awakening to a blistered world,
    confronting the playground bully aboveboard,
        demanding, commanding, that the briny fear be vanquished,
        given the same insecure foundation, my harkened birthright,
            my baptism, my metamorphosis. And in that brilliant
            moment, I conceded, and shed alabaster skin.