"carnivorously" poems
You are pathology incarnate
The sweat on your brow trick of the light
You were the first female
But you are no woman
Just a beast in the shape of a girl
Plucked one year before ripeness
A major at everything
A minor one way
Your eyes betray your true nature
Sharp, louche and depravity reined
Soot-yellow and one dollar green
Some might call it hazel
I call it dirt against your aryan gold hair
If you offered me fruit
I’d force myself to take a bite
So my soul won’t witness my guts feasted in the gutter
Carnivorously carnival-carved cadaver
Stamped under your cigarette-stained heels
Cherry cola chipped out of chapped lips
Cos I didn’t dare take a chockfull
You’re the first girl who has ever touched me
But I’m just the fly on your fruit
Lilith Haefelin
The girl before Eve.
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 11:33 PM UTC
Constrain me
Lock me away
To save me
In your mind
Or closet
Or under your bed
Packed
To find me
When you shake
When you scream
Store me
And forget me
So when you expect me least
There I will be.
Carnivorously.
Holding you down
Your flesh between my jaws
Seething
Breathing
Through teeth
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 11:58 PM UTC
with cords electric, you've strung me stinging, with them, me. your mouth
is an apple. your mouth is a fragrant cavern.
in which is my my mouth. mingling. from them springs a mountain
of wind. your hands are, on your wrists, pale spiders. on me slung. your web
of cool scuttling love. on my belly.
you go supple. into palms. they are a colour. your colour. the colour of death
just before you live. you are strenuous. a boundless taught moment. of unugly caffeine. i am a noise.
and you are a colour. you said it in me. big and tiny. in my tiny bigness.
and in the backyard. by the sleeping pile of forests. you draw the hammer
of your guns. and i wilt.
sprouting. effortlessly. infinitely. eating the gilt purse of your pinkest tiny.
and we are like wind. who grapples with leaves. and they touch like
lovers. we are like that.
like health. like sickness. freshly shearing. every molecule of our bodies
onto the indigo eaves of eve. quickly, carnivorously, slaughtering light.
let's then just be.
in quiet. and symmetry.
cords electric. strummed with fallen night.
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 3:17 PM UTC
I am descending down a hole,
That I have been down too many times before.
This time when I dive in,
I may not be coming back up again.
I stared too far into the abyss,
I dived too deep into it’s depths.
Lost myself to what I found within,
And it made it’s home beneath my skin.
I feel an itch beneath the surface,
And I just got to gnaw at it.
Self-cannibalistic I’ve become,
I’m slowly eating myself away.
Carnivorously, I consume the flesh that nets around my bones,
Hoping that it satisfies the carnivore in me.
Who knew dying would taste so **** good today.
Every bite I take I am slowly eating myself away.
The only way I feel alive is by feeding what will **** me one day.
Soon my bones will be exposed,
But it won’t be satisfied.
I will break them open and devour the marrow inside.
Still it won’t be satisfied!
One day nothing will remain!
Then it will climb back down the hole,
Waiting for someone to pull it out.
It’s always hungry for more.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
There is nothing better than the hunt,
As I smile so carnivorously,
I think of when I first began,
The day the search first ran.
It was a beautiful day,
As I was locked inside,
By a mother who doth protest too much,
An decided it was my turn to be beaten amuck.
I cried and I cried,
As old as I was…
There was no end or beginning
To the pain that I felt
And so the only way to ease it,
Was to share this pain, with everyone.
So began, my very first hunt.
And now, many years later,
I wonder ever still,
How the hunter has not become the unter,
Even as the scent of the prey lingers.
She is standing there alone.
Alone.
Just like me now.
Mother is gone, so it’s just me.
Me and the hunt.
She has a beauty,
You’d have to look at for a while,
To truly see.
But underneath she just feels lonely,
Just like me.
So I must hunt her,
And share my pain,
As she walks home alone,
Well I take her by the face,
And I kiss her forcefully,
And smother her fright inside of me,
Take her to the “forest”,
Where all will be decided.
She has calmed on the outside,
But the fear is consuming her eyes,
Slowly I take her clothes,
And oh what a glow,
Her skin seems to have been made for me,
For this very day,
Nothing better than the hunt,
And the trophy that lay,
Beneath me.
Being the Hunter I took and I gave,
With blood and with fear,
Forcefully she was laid.
And after all was said and done,
I think for a second it was clear,
That in that pristine moment,
When she first started to tear.
She felt it, Yes she did.
The pain of the hunter and the hunted.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 8:03 PM UTC
There it is again,
That old sting.
No drugs, no needles,
Something else going in.
Creeping up on me,
Like lichen up a tree.
Spreading like frost,
Over a bedroom window.
The pain comes fast,
And the death comes slow.
I feel no pulse until,
There is someone else’s blood flowing through.
I wish to deceive you,
I wish to devour you.
I only want you,
To see how long I can bleed you.
I wait until you let me in,
Then I take everything.
I will then abandon you,
Leaving you with nothing.
We’re all dying from an internal fire.
We all feed on one another.
Carnivorously, I consume others to stay alive.
Life feeds on life, this is how we survive.
I stared too far into the abyss,
I dived too deep into it’s depths.
I lost myself to what I found inside,
And it made its home in my mind.
Drop down a ******
For me to climb into.
Open up my old womb,
And breathe life into the new.
I perish your human sacrifice,
Hoping to relinquish me of this carnivore.
Is it enough to suffice!?
I want to be separate from this animal.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 7:04 PM UTC
Peppermint gum,
I handed one - half discarded;
how far we stretch when flavours dull
and loose thoughts the last
we push around our tongue.
Lately death is everywhere,
it sits on the rim and recites
the contrition of unburied mad.
Demons that swirl,
unfolded for the world
in aching concession - how sorrow
leans heavy on the bones.
It isn't the expiry of flesh,
he keeps tab between lines,
a scratched grey tally
under the lamp by the bed.
Death is the loss of love,
of all things hope
you once carnivorously indulged
with unfettered joy.
A sanctuary for the crazed and unkept
who swear by the scent of rust
that peel off old Church-bells in November.
That bronze hue of a land less roamed,
dialect closer to home.
Death was in the bay,
it oared the shores this morning
so I braced dawn a different person
without you.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC