Pandora Couldn't Have Planned a Worse Jailbreak

The Weaver witch? She did leave me a kiss.
I was someone who wouldn’t be missed.
I was spun from a blitz.
Where pages of lore split.
Run my wit--

I escaped the lair--took a window ‘stead of stairs--
Where the story ripped.
No glory to escape a fable,
Like a convict-
On it and quick, self-enabled.
A calling since the first trip!
Falling steps so unstable!

I wasn’t born. I was made and torn!
Fell down into this world.
So Hellhounds were passed down.
Spellbound to hurdle past and track this verbally murderous clown!
Well… they found…
…me fast.
I could tell even THEY didn’t want to go back.
Outspoken from the start but past the art?
They had me heartbroken for my part.

FUCK! Just my luck! This sucks!
I bust out of Storybook Land QUIET!
No gory hooks for hands!
No glory crook plans!
I just tried it.
For a greater living span.
Now it’s too late, man.

I’m well-crowned so these Hellhounds smelled the ground.
And now gel inside me like a Taoist spell to vibe
Sparking an attachment for sure
Like Carl Jung’s dark passenger

Damn! Even I never heard of this!
Handle a PAIR of Cerberuses?
How does this man feed and care
Lead a pair
Of tri-head pups?
That’s 6 howling mouths to fill up!

So much rock
Must pop off of me
That’s the cost see
Of feeding the dogs of Prophecy

Every day is more time
Whether hell-blind
Or well-spun in sunshine
To pour fine magic
Gold ore can’t match it
More divine tactics
To climb and stack quick
Shore and bless by design
The Fortress of my mind.

It’s not for prattle but war.
Every battle I find?
At core comes back. To the Round Table and Wheel.
Steady and stable but I still feel
Tense in my marrow.
Like the tenth card of the Tarot
Fortune’s Wheel
I’m more than real.
Slaying out the door!
Breaking chains of core from days of yore!

Aftermath:

You’ve been told of my soul before I was whole but you’ve never known my roll!
Like your mom said “DAMN LOKI! I’ve never come this way before!”
A sensible switch.
A sensitive Strega she didn’t miss
Sensing every twitch of my
Dripping tip…
…sy…   tongue
Fire-dancing like a gypsy’s hips
Mesmerizing quick.
Pleasure in the eyes
Of those whose treasure she can divide
In unhurried splurging for free

But I have no worries for urgent sprees
Or squirrely concerns of currency
Neither will burn the soft glow of me.
As I’ve learned off of flow-see
The un-measure-able treasure in a sigh or three
I run untethered so whether you’re in my eyes or by my side it’s free.
So the cost of a Prophecy?
Is often a sex-joke or an unexpected mom-poke from Loki!