A moth alights upon one who's seen fairer days
the color of death - rises as his sclera fades
Thorns surround memories like aloe vera strains
and death's dew contrasts his soul's sahara blaze -
such a curious countenance...a chimera's gaze.
Road to ruin which so many human eras paved,
Death grips his scythe and offers a prayer of saints.
Back then he stopped crime and shunned classless acts
Nebulous thoughts crystallize when life flashes back:
Intuition godlike.
Catching criminals? He always just...happened to know
back then going to balls in top hats was in vogue.
Ladies man sleuth, but that night he was magically frozen
Sherlock's failed case, a trace of him tragically broken.
London Spring. He smiled as Watson passed him his robe
"Your toughest case yet. The effort has been valiant Holmes."
Smile belies suffering and magnanimous throes.
Since birth Sherlock had no trouble checkmating deceit
Until his nemesis came. A pretty paradox, greatly petite.
Murderous lesbian cannibal, simply a lady who eats.
His only clues a truncated letter stately in speech
Lipstick marks, anger and...the rotting fragrance of meat.
"A resplendent hall with beautiful women Holmes, it'll be great for relief"
but that distorted echo did NOTHING to arrest the defeat.
The ball loosened him up but he still longed to be better,
Paragon. Alpha male logic king turned gaudy professor
Some belles remarked his shoes were of the naughtiest leather
Apathy's motion faltering, tied to the bawdiest tether.
When he saw her forefinger's motion -
naturally bringing their bodies together.
A lithe beauty - silence poised her animation of face
Cosmic mindfuck: evil's great personification of grace
Music stops, eye lock - the cessation of pace.
Bathroom tryst, removing decorations from waist.
Magnetism, knowing mutual salvation awaits
knowing that death evaporates the consecrations you make
as she bit his stomach,
he saw the blackened rot of the gums which narrated his pain
As he passed out, she blew a kiss with affectations of praise...
Lost in his thoughts,
Holmes passes a stumbling old lady with no tact or deference prepared
eyebrows contract - he feels a familiar presence is there
but Holmes walks on, having missed her cold malevolent stare.
|