Her veins embue the nectar of creativity--
the euphoric taste is addicting,
and we **** every last drop
like a cigarette 'till her body withers
into ashes.

Many of artist like me are demon mosquitos
with piercing, burning fangs gnawing
on the raw juicy meat
with blood dripping down our chins
until our hunger is satisfied
& the moment is lifeless.
Even then we wrap ourselves around the carcass
like a python to squeeze out every last drop....

The bones are art, or a poem: souvenirs
to show our dominance.