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.
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