Would I

If I pierced your flesh With my cannibal teeth, Where soft moans Vibrate Along your Pulsating neck, Scented with living Blood, So pure So thick So heavy So rich, That one satanic sip Would intoxicate even the most Dead Of us, to believe we could live. I wonder… I wonder… If my unloved, mistreated, cold touch Wandered along Delicate wrists, With veins So vulnerable, Would my thump hands, So coarse So sharp So arctic, Break, fracture, shatter, The exquisite 7 layers That protect your Poison, So Sufferingly sweet That you need it to live, That it controls every move, Every dark, damned, desire, Every electric, eccentric emotion To the brink of criminal insanity. If my breathless, bitter mouth, Travelled, trail-less, along your roaring, shaking skin Hiding the rivers of your rushing, natural luscious liquid, Would I break? Smother myself in a shower crimson spa treatment. Let the hunger, the senselessness, ruin my Already blind, animalistic eyes And watch, fatigued, at your once so beautiful, frail, susceptible body, Now preserved, forever, icy, scentless, Hollow, Magnificent… Would I break… Turn to my old dead ways, of indulging inhumanely, tasting All of the tantalising treats That your Fragile, impressionable, so easily bruised body Has to offer An ancient, lifeless, broken soulless heart Like me.