My blood will flow through your veins.
My whispers will eat you away,
chip at your soul,
gnaw at your vision.
My hands will shake in your presence.
My breath will spiral into your throat.

You will bathe in my image.

You will melt into my hands.
You will cry in fear.
Still.

You will gasp for air.
Drip in nervous laughter.
Lose everything
in a mind crowded by thick fog.

My instinct.
Your bleeding.

My need.
Your bruising.

My urges.


Your death.