Cloven-Hoof and Agape of Maw

‘The cloven-hoof daemon,
spitting raw angst and fire,
would be more at home,
in a story or a fairy-tale.

His maw was agape,
and he spat fire and emotion,
and could not speak without
infecting his diction with bile.

The daemon was wracked
with sorrow and with agony,
for his father had died
and his mother was soon to perish.

He had known love from only them,
and had come to entrust them with all.
His father spat fire,
his mother, spoke only in angsty tones.

So a product of a marriage made in myth,
a minotaur father,
an abused, mewling mother,
a princess ravaged by fat minotaur hands.

The cloven-hoof and agape of maw,
was both man and beast,
and strode his lava fortress,
with an iron sword ten feet long.

The beast swung at intruders,
and bellowed ash and magma,
at all who entered,
through his skull and knife gates.

A magician made of gold witnessed,
the massacre of a town,
so displeased with the beast,
they felt implored to act.

The beast tore their limbs,
and chewed their bones,
all the while sporting,
a hot animal erection.

The magician summoned ‘Dragorampator’
the ethereal legend dragon,
whose scales were ice,
and whose blood was acid.

And Dragorampator thrust his tail,
which span the length of the lava moat three fold,
plummeting and ravaging the defences,
of the hot erect beast.

The remaining civilians,
trussed in chains and wailing away,
were burnt and maimed,
by the spray of acidic blood.

But Dragorampator was burning with rage,
and the daemon-beast was infuriated,
and they clashed giant sword and acid-ice tail,
until the tail was rent asunder.

Dragorampator bellowed with agony,
and the magician’s ears pricked,
So he summoned a healing angel
to mend his wounded warrior.

But the daemon-beast caught the angel,
as she floated from the stars,
and tore her dress from her flesh
to gaze at her milk-white breast.

Dragorampator forgot his suffering,
and stomped and pounded to the embracing pair,
and his hot dragon penis was wobbling,
dripping acidic precum over the remaining prisoners...’

‘Dad! Dad! Dad... stop with the bedtome stories. For Christ’s sake just let me go to sleep.’

‘Sorry son.’