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Mar 2010
The nails I’d grown

To cultivate

Dug deep & hard

In pallid flesh

I pulled my skin

Across my chest

And felt my ribs

That grasped for breath.



And as I lay

The more I thought

What tastes disturb

Upon my tongue

As teeth bit hard

On anxious flesh

And death recoiled

At what I’d come.



As nerves crept through

My empty veins

I challenged sense

Of earthly realms

Those cries I hear

On silent winds

That sing of death

And thrive in dreams.



Was I the one

That took first bite

Upon your stained

& soiled sheets

And satins touch

Is Satans lust

That spurred us on

In savage feast.



Inside I feel

The acids joy

That courts my soul

And marries minds

As logic flirts

And lures my will

In dance that speaks

Of tales unkind.



To walk in death

With memories lost

As shadows flit

We move in time

And nails that press

And rip my skin

Are needles through

My ravaged arm.



Now gone are days

And gone is slumber

As nights draw in

And waken me

To taste your flesh

Is my desire

And purge myself

Of dignity.
Written by
Pete Marshall
599
 
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