Everyone has inspiration. This is mine. |
It's a taint Sitting alone in the dark I see the dead I see the promise of my destruction My blood as it turns black and curdles. He stands by my bed Cutting his palm with his teeth Drips red onto my stomach Waits for me to take up my pen. The stubble on his cheeks scratches my neck as he breathes in my ear Rests his hands on my shoulders His sweat cooling on my skin. I stare at the wall Bite my lip and wait for the words to come Dreading their arrival Needing them to make myself whole. Fingernails draw blood from my spine The pain inspiring me. Desperation shudders my breath The panic of apprehension clawing gashes in my throat. He begins to whisper A blur of image Heady exileration A sting of ink on my tongue. He rakes his nails over my ribs and growls Sudden violence turning my body hot Making me hungry for a taste of flesh For the immortality of a deathly sickness. My body hits the wall Blurs my words Distorts them until they twist and howl. I feel his palm over my heart His breath on my lips The excited pulse underneath his skin. Our joining is wicked An appocolypse for my soul But I am alive I am real. |