Death’s Muse II

Death’s  Muse II

Sloop and Pitch wavered in their love for dramatic romance and the hellscapes presented them in their treks through the countries of the blackjack dealers of false dates and the wheel spinners of rejected thoughts that were their occasional employers.

The deals they made and the boys and girls they played and flayed mostly presented themselves as a glutinous substance waiting to be stretched and maimed or broken and used for car washing. Sloop and Pitch were from a long line of the friends of Amy the Muse. There were rewards in being that ..There were costs. There was the dance with time.

There were pleasures in taking a wounded sucker, an honest man, a free woman and selling them to Death’s best traffickers, wrapping them up in shiny simplicity of mind for the buyers and the sellers. The ingenious middlemen played off of the parades to Death’s casino to steal a few of the scripts of purpose that were floating around in odd places.

It was to the holy cause of martyrdom that I was pledged.  it was to the cause of righting wrongs and saving little kittens and babies that I was pledged.  Whenever Death took a holiday and Amy played mystic muse to her timeless lovers and infinite friends, I struck the bells of freedom.  I challenged the ones with the shivs in the night and the ones with the requisite company of drooling goons. Tough was my middle name.

On good days Amy would let me visit and play patty cake…on special days she would leave me to a friend. I was special and a sterling commodity.  Over time Amy let me deal with the boys and girls at her table.  She would stake me as I was just a poor wayfaring stranger. She would stake me good and the try to play her magic to rig the game for fun and confusion.  Confusion was the purpose of it all.  Those abundantly sure of their greatness and those abundantly sure of Amy’s fallibility welcomed me with open arms. We were all playing to beard the goat …to stake out the little bit of territories that were there to inflame men’s hearts and souls. It was a race to be ward leaders to the stars with golden bags of heavenly manna to distribute and kill over… dominance games were what they were.

Dominance games were what they were.  Lust games were what they were. Void games were what they were..Power.  Revenge.  Honor.  Death. Were what they were.

.,..,, Death’s, Amy’s continuing boiling stew of power, lust, honor, revenge. The smells were tantalizing, hypnotizing.  Time’s nether world offered the eternal playground. Tough people offered meanness. Steely eyed vampires offered to drink all of the blood.  Death liked little wars Anmy liked to bate the traps………,……. Sloop, Pitch looked to find the sides of the angels…the keys to the prizes Amy gathered over time…..Amy the Muse

Amy the Muse was the reason Death got up in the morning.  He had sought his muse for a long time until Amy appeared and took his soul.  Death found meaning in his work. he found extra purpose. The games he championed took on the firey colors of hell along with the cold freezes of his touch. The poisons he pushed were as the joys of roasted chestnuts. It had become more interesting to deal with the march of time.  Amy was time’s treasure, time’s reward.  She offered the aphrodisiacs, the climaxes, the surging pulses of craving, wanting, needing. Lust suited Amy well.  Lust suited Death well.  The fires that burned were cold fires.  I had dealt with them…. Comfort the afflicted, I said.  Afflict the comfortable, I said.  Amy through me kisses.