Led to the bed midnight rust september
He hangs me like a cruel portrait
Like he's a Valkyrie in our midnightmare,
trampling of amber.
I sworn him vows in fragrant blood
Wept until tears crept back to prayer,
Molly-circled like i'm prey in his quod.
He thrusted eight feet deep in my incision
Until the incision became a laceration
and i became flooding gore.
He caresses my milky skin,
i'm his porcelain yin
Makes me purr like a little kitten
This is incurable necromantic sin,
— Our.
Our love was brutal and bloody,
almost romantic too
A metamorphosis of human sanity
A morbid wine for my soul
And when he touches me
I see a wild civility
I see a mutual disorder
I see dark liquored eyes
I touch a tourniquet of topaz and boulder.
On my knees.
He makes me pray for the holy one,
Him.
When the moon exhales
behind a veil
of widowhood and clouds,
My eyes coordinate his skinny legs
My head below his veiny hands
I'm a prayer for his sins.
Forgive me Father,
Burn me, a sacerdotal soul
For your fetishes and desire
For the dark core of your ghoul.
Nurture me
Ravish me and hurt me too,
Make my lips praise hymnals
Handle me like im a taboo
— It's you and i against my body
YOU ARE READING
Funeral in Aokigahara
PoetryPeople even liked pretty things that wanted to kill and eat them. Welcome to my death of love
