Builder

I am a whip

I glisten with pomp and blood

When you see me, I ought to be a tumult.
Large and in charge.

Bullish.
Brute.
Dastardly and masculine.


I would defy you if you dared to rise up against my loins.
My muscled neck and jawbone. My back.


If I had four bolts of lightning I would strike down eight men with machine guns.
I am great.

Storming.
I bend into distinct shapes, indicating my prowess.
It ripples, venous.
I ripple.
I drown you out with my immaculate voice.
Pure white and silken. A boulder, I am a boulder.