like poetry she's giving me bad habits

*whenever she eats
her fingers would scoop a morsel or two
and pierce my hungry lips

it makes me wait keen like ***
when the night is nine o'clock
it makes me slave of Pavlov's reflex
for her hands in my liplock

i crave not much for one morsel
yearn more for her hand
it makes me feel lovingly well
to see her closely stand

one morsel or at most two
when she pushes in my mouth
that says to me her love is true
she loves me out and out.

Reflection, introspective question, echoes "Dissonance..."
this distance, fist, fuel pump Death's liplock on cognizance
cogs ground to halt, acthung in their tongues whipping ignorance
pale snow like corpse-flesh rest and rot on the ground
thunderous, the sky fills with one overpowering sound
exhaustion, bleaker cracks than ever on the porcelain eye
behold this, the greatest show you cannot miss
give us a kiss, death give us a kiss, expel the spirit and leave the lie
screaming for a blanket, notes plaster the walls and ceiling and all the clashing concords are parabolic bliss

With your sugar skull aloft and looking down
all these jesters dance to entertain one clown
the paint wears off their faces, no presence
no dignity, no disgraces, they look into the mirror and say this
"Courage..." comes from elegance over using power at every chance
while cold water runs off with the colder blood that seeps from the cuts in their hands

Star fire!
Molten and liquid and poured into the gullets of each of your foolish and wicked, cruel and detestable people
if no person ever lived, who is to say if the universe would ever know such things as evil?
The pomegranate complexion of these brazen, emboldened, boorish and bombastic beings
I curse their granite introspection with blazing, untold and traumatic things
burst them and wither their seeds to nothing, all that I regard of them in sight
death kisses are the sweetest for they offer final release from all mortal pains, and carry you off into the eternal night.