I saw
in the streets —
dead people
walking;
(tiptoeing...)
They’re
not deceased,
nor are they
alive.

I saw
in the streets —
that desperate
hustle;
(grinding...)
They’re
not hungry,
nor are they
satisfied.

I saw
in the streets —
the filthy rich
and the poor;
(begging...)
They’re
not affluent,
nor are they
the *******.

I watched,
and wondered —
am I
one of them
too?

I saw
in the streets —
the appetite
for more;
(hungry...)
They’re
not content,
nor are they
dissatisfied.

I saw
in the streets —
dead people
walking;
(tiptoeing...)
They’re
not deceased,
nor are they
alive.

No one’s
screaming,
but I still
hear the
sirens —
As they
pick up
the dead
people
walking.

The hunger I feel, its almost too much to bear.
Flesh on flesh, we love to share.

The pull towards the edge comes deeper and deeper,
She grips down hard, she loves when I tease her.

Her hair so lush, so soft, clean.
She loves when its pulled, it makes her scream.

The fire that's felt burns deep inside,
Mind, body and soul begin to collide.

Her hands and mine, they are intertwined.
She looks at me and whispers "it feels so good inside".

The sweat seeps down, it reaches her lips.
She pulls me in close and says "now s^ck my t^ts".

My tongue, my hands, a mind of their own,
It takes but a second for her to moan.

Whether rough or gentle she is more than capable.
But I must say, her appetite is insatiable.

Oh god, yes I hear you say with a grin.
"Dont stop at all, just please give in".

I hold your wrists, tighter and tighter
A thought through my head says "kiss, caress and bite her".

With a touch and a whisper beside your ear
It sends you into a frenzy, that much is clear.

My hands, they move further down your skin
I then hear you whisper ,"Oh god, oh please just put it in".

Harder and faster between your hips,
The air, it's warm as it escapes your lips.

Your touch, your body, I crave it all
Be careful whilst on top, you wouldn't want to fall.

You feel me losing all control, the dimensions between us are so very thin

You body moves on it's own,  pure ecstasy it is. You grab hard and scream "just give in"

dog leashed, tied onto a pitch-black pole
woven to the pillar, like you're woven to my soul

every thought about you pours acid in my heart
and i cough out the rest like blood
one day i'm scavenging for water, a paranoid dart
the next i'm drowning in a hot-pink flood

i saw you in the window of that small local store
after becoming a regular, the door wouldn't open anymore
but you looked so pretty when you were so far away
and for some reason i come back every day

but it was so good at first
you made me finally believe
that someone out there could love someone like me

and i told you what i did wrong
and you said you didn't care
but i must've mistaken that love was in the air

i try to talk to you
i try to understand
but every word i say to you
you repeat back, just bland

and you blame it on me?
you say i'm the confusing one
so i chase and chase, give and give
you never let me take some

it's my mistake i put love first
my mistake i wasn't rational
my mistake that when you said you liked me
i somehow didn't think it was casual

i'm a dog waiting at your door
saliva puddle on your wooden floor
i wait for you to come back
like i'm tied to a pole, pitch-black

my hunger has been satiated now
i open my eyes for the sixth time
this has gone much longer than i can allow
you're making me run out of rhyme
i guess it was my mistake that even then, even now
i somehow thought you would be mine.

I never eat at break.
It started with recklesness;
it always starts like that.
Forgetting to pack up food in the mornings
where I could hardly get up.
The first days,
weeks,
months,
I was hungry.
Yet still every morning I forgot,
like an animal surviving in the present would.

Over time,
I forgot hunger too.

Why are we drawn
to lust,
to the hunger of flesh,
to devour food
as if the body remembers
a hunger older than time?

Because we are soil!
And we desire
grain,
flesh,
which too rise
from soil.

Like calls to like.
Atoms seek atoms.

The universe obeys
its own silent gravity.

Our lust,
and longings
die
when we return
to the dust
we came from.
But even then,
it’s not over.

Our atoms will scatter
into soil,
into seeds,
into skins.

And somewhere,
in someone,
they will long
again.
Not with our name,
but with our echo.

Maybe, the bodies you see
are echoes,
of echoes,
of echoes...
of echoes…
…
..
.

When an equivocal mind is fed ambivalence off silver spoons,
the inevitable death from starvation will arrive.
For I will never taste the conclusions
of my own vulgarization.
Ambiguity is no nourishment to satisfy my soul;
Though being consumed is quite finger-licking.

I’m chewing on my own becoming.

Will I have the right to be fastidious about
my growth?
If dipping myself in gold would be more
palatable to the one’s surrounding the table
only I sit upon?
Another round of silver contemplation and napkins please.