Gold cursed

What might an ear think
If it had never known howling winds
And sins
What would be thought of them
If life had ever been
On a stiff and elegant throne
Without whim
What might a man believe 
Of an embrace
If touch had always been
Sin
And what of kindness however thin
If judgement was for the strong

And hearts touching;
For the weak

What if a man believed
That a woman would love the king
Merely for being the king
Whoever told us love lies in power lied
Lied To us and everyone and especially to me
It's never been a thing
They love the kind of man to whom power brings
Great potency
Passion in embroidery sewn
I guess I really should've known
That my gold was just a coat
That to these women 
love was a hand around their throats 
and a rose in their mouth. 
That my tone was warm
But not south
And birds must fly
I guess I really should have known
Love was shown
In abusive adoration and consuming obsession
Even if we cringe at the tone
We have been trained to hate
Love is
Defined by its intensity
A curse not a boon
Why else would you
romanticize vampires and those wolves
Changed by the moon
Those wolves
Whose entire being is consumed by a hunger 
for you
Like fire
Whose eyes burn predatory 
And whose claws take and rake and rape 
Toss your skirts to the wolves
The epitome of desire
Is When you cannot listen to no
I guess that's beautiful
To our nature
It is true
Reject it as I might it is very much the reality
 outside of these
My palace walls
The wilds lay free and roaming
Moaning
In ecstasy 
Tumbling hills and bodies groaning
In sweat and effort and pain and grass and leaves and soil and water and life
It is alive
And I
Lonely king Midas 
Gold rolling out my mumbling mouth as broken teeth and the flute of my throat in haunting songs and sounds
Dreaming that Crowns fall into nightgowns
I
Presenting great sculpted works
Born of my fingers native tongue

I
Have forgotten that love does not reside in the soul
Or in the mind
But in the flesh
Where beasts may prey upon it
I
Have forgotten
That real monsters should never be touched
However much they shimmer
All that will be left is a glimmer

I have forgotten
That my palace is a cage
For no one
But everything that ever made them live

I

Had forgotten

That I am a thief
Who believes that he deserves
And has earned
Merely by admiring
I sit upon my throne
Beset by the groaning weight of everything I
Have made 
heavy
Placing my finger
Perfectly
Artistically
So that you never speak to me again.