a split lip, tongue dancing along
the rivulets of blood welcomed by gravity
downward, staining my white cotton shirt
finally painting myself with/of
me

there's something so visceral
exposing that which is to be contained
beneath an easily breached exterior
to the outside world and making
art out of horror and gore.
ethereal

a knife through butter
skimming stones disturbing water
your lips at my pulsepoint
and your hands in my ribcage
all natural (or nature?)
achoring me to the world while
relieving me of it

is there really much morbidity in
fascinations of the body
depravity in the infinite ways
to desecrate holy ground so
completely?

feeling skin stretch and tear
with a flash of teeth and dimpled cheeks
warmth spreads through my belly
aching for more; twisted confirmation that
i am, in fact,
alive