Dark twisting shadows grow within her belly.
They shred her womb like paper under knives.
The green monster isn't really green you see;
It's a black hole, consuming lives without abandon.
Her fragile body can't contain it for long.
Try as hard as she may, her skin pales,
Her emaciated corpse-like figure trembles;
The shots of absinthe render it fragile.
Still, her resilience is remarkably futile.
The burning ring of metal on her finger glows.
It's pure presence mocks her stony heart,
She wears it as a charade of innocence,
Laughing, for he can not see her true nature.
She has tasted the bounty of endless flesh.
Men and women crave her silky fingertips,
Yet, they recoil as her cobra tongue lashes out.
Ice fire radiates from her eye sockets.
Pleasure flows from the cleft between her legs,
Its overpowering poison veiled by moans.
Ecstasy is lovely, until it perverts the soul.
Accidental babies march from her belly.
Spilled seeds make up a cloak of sticky pearls.
Luscious auburn curls flow down her back,
Hiding the scars of countless knife-kisses.
Truth scars her flesh, though, nothing else can.
It's all sticks and stones, love, nothing but normal.