The Rapist, Unnamed

Roving in the Cimmerian den of damnation
Fleeing from the exposing Sun and the Mirror
That uncovers all whites of flesh and mind,
Failing everyone's sight, I slither into caliginosity.

Dragging farther with the brace of oversighting eyes
Until I begin to lose my own view.
So, I spark anguish to light a candle
But into a blazing torch, it explodes,
My distorted shadow rises and flashes
Onto the candid Looking Glass
Which in front of the inner eye always stands
Persistent and auroral as Polaris.

On it those crimson hands appeared- palms joint in request
Or rather begging for defense;
Those fair hands, ripped and dripped red,
Had been pillaged of virginity
In the silence of cowed mouths,
The audition of split ears,
The beholding of wounded perceptions
And the deflation of manly arms often exaggerated,
Along with the cold stamping of cloven-feet,
That had spurned her limp body -
All of us equal rapists.

At my legs she had sprawled
Splashing on me, gory guilt.
Now my eyes are shrieking with tears,
My fists are beating my chest;
Oh why had you then worn a stilled spectacle
When the arduous showboat of Satan was being posed?
Since immemorial times, Your fingers had
Chanted on the rosary beads
Which had impressed every eye that counted,
Was it all ostensible, O Mind!
Only a cipher of teachings had you earned?

Better return me, for once, to that infernal epoch
To myself bear those molesting stabs,
Than show the Omniscient this withered face
Or the blemished body that this self-reflector displays.