wolven7 | We are stuck in this world, that's not meant for me...

For all of you out there wondering, here's a part of me...

Depravity

I would rust away
if only all the urges
never read those
sordid languages
or fingered Pleasure,
and moaned out "Mother."
Watch as your garden bed pants and drools,
Shaking and drunk...
Get it true, petal:
One knife.
"What do you mean 'we'?"
Mad, frantic, languid, delicate.
Her skin shines like a diamond.

Something to Drink

Every now and again,
i just get this...
Need.
It's a thirst, or a
longing...
i don't know how to really describe it,
but you know what i mean.
That twitching in your throat,
the memory of the smell in your nostrils,
that bitter, sweet, musky, dark taste
on your tongue;
i need something to drink.
i need the familiar feeling
of my lips around an opening,
sucking it out, like it was Life
itself.
My tongue reaching out
to get every last drop,
take it all in.
The raw burn, down to my stomach,
the throbbing...
i NEED something to drink.
There's this intoxicating rush
that comes with drinking.
You're closer,
you're connected,
you're a part of something larger.
Salty, sweet, honeyed nectar,
making one's head spin.
You're together--
complete-- and, afterwards,
all that can be left,
if you really want to forget,
is the echo of the blood,
pounding through you--
the stain on your shirt,
and the bed.

©2001-2002 Damien Williams