Bite Me Beast

Bite me beast.

Feel this saccharine smile melt the rotting gum beneath the teeth in the same ringing, rusted tone as the "I told you so" that was never said.

Bite me! 

See how fast the slack jaw snaps back to sink a saddened sully into your sore shoulders. Feel the teeth vibrate against the muscle - adrenaline promised you taste best when the meat is tender, so with open mouth, I'll knead the submission back into your rebellion.

Bite. Me. Beast 

Savour the silence of shock, for that bite only ends in a wrath of stars: striking to transfix the minds eye, and feigning relief to hide a shattered grin.

Feast on You

The beads of your sweat dance
As glitter in the dull candle light:
Pooling in tiny wells of anticipation
Purified in the heat of subtle terror.

My beautiful centerpiece
Trussed up securely
A hungered entrée display

Admired with heavy breaths,
You're examined by ravenous eyes,
Traced by the fingers of libidinous desire,
For patience wears at starvation's tolerance.

Let sharpened blade be unsheathed
Let us feast on you
To satiate this hunger

Watch your warm entrails drip
With the remaining lucid seconds. 
My pitiful meal, how shameful you've become
Watching your heart stop beating in love's cold hand

Corners

No one digs in the corners
Where the smell festers deepest.
Their shovels just clang and clack
On the crumbled poured cement
That’s broken in the centre
Because it lifts easier
that grey concrete rubble bow

Where the walls join together,
Connected to the cold ground:
Below the record player,
That knew only but one song
At entirely the wrong speed:
Is where she lays, still waiting,
Still wasting, still wailing out.

No one will ever find her.
The ammonia stings their eyes
Should they wander close enough
To spot the fresh plaster marks,
Or the abandoned teddy
Adorned with a bow, alas,
No one digs in the corners.

Reddy or Not

Razor blade eyes graze deep in the sin
Exposing the tarnished rust underneath
Dead layers of poison blushed rosy skin. 

Relive
Each
Day

Remorse slathers its thick tongue against
Every inch of your grimacing, paling face.
Detached enough to only feel the spite. 

Regret
Every
Decision

Rehearse the pleas for mercy at the sight of
Extraction devices seeking to remove the
Decaying truth from the depths of your memory. 

Recognise
Empty
Deeds

Realise that the crimson wound in your chest
Echoes with the wishes that you had started
Dying before you stopped the others from living.

Thames Gin Headache

Chipped polish on keratin
Formed instruments of misery
Against the carved ivory candlestick,
But played in time and one half
Between clicked wooden heels
And shuffle scuffed leather toes. 
Shrieking warped wood boards
Bemoaned the restless pacing
Until eased by the storm’s drippings
Rolled from the oversaturated linen.

Youth kept the nightdress white,
Precisely creased on double pleat
Perfumed in almond and rice starch.
The insipidness of immaturity
Creeped up the ironed dart lines
To satiate the linen’s thirst for spoil,
And seeped into the recurring path
In a bogged mix of clay and blood.
The sludge had smudged the vows
Between the ruby and diamond ring.

Lightning had taken exception,
Or so it would have seemed,
To the metal cockerel above the well.
It’s striking boldly lit the sodden grass
To illuminate a solitary jacquard spat
Encased, leather, side button boot.
He’d sworn himself inconspicuous once,
Yet adorned himself so pretentiously
For the eyes of the unwed maidens
On the night he was intended to wed.

The dusty manor house windows
Did not hide the ostentatious footwear
From the overwhelmed on looker
As she bit her nails cuticle bare.
Had he simply fallen, she’d be asleep
For the drunkard had overindulged
On pints of overtaxed Thames Gin.
But he cracked his crown on limestone
Before his legs lost the ability to hold
His brainless form to full attention.

Inebriation settled most heavily
In the bones of his shaking wheeze.
Had not the split of his mindless skull
Incapacitated his conscious movement,
His well wished departure would be,
To the greatest of detest and chagrin,
Replaced by opiate coma numbing
As his bride rode Peeler’s prize
In a carted cage of lucid lunacy
And cursed language of wicked folk.

Luck had been her bedfellow,
Strength her mightiest gift giver,
And determination: her kind muse.
No sooner could he groan in ache
Than his moaning was quick silenced 
In the crunch of crumbled spine
That met with a barren dark age well.
Her hand warmed by the liquid wax,
She stopped pacing to reflect with joy
At the sickening sound of lifelessness.

Vicious Thirst

Originally Written 08/05/2020, Edited 12/05/2021

I want to set my teeth into your throat; 
Gargle sour blood around your larynx 
And tease out your last gasping breath.

I want to kiss the lines of your jugular: 
To rip away the freckled fleshy covering 
Stimulating my taste buds on its pulsing surface.

I want to play maestro with your nerves; 
And watch you twitch and convulse like a puppet 
As I pluck the taught tendrils one by one.

I want to pick my teeth with your hyoid; 
Scrape from my grin your lingering remains
To purge the taste of you from my mouth

Question Touch

Do you have to scrub your skin too?
Scratch off it’s surface over and over
Until twenty burning layers away
From the tracks of unwanted caress?

Remember as the acid seeps through
And you lose that arrogant composure,
That I am only just beginning to play
With these things that helps me ‘process.’

Have you ever had to show your face
When no-one knows the predator won?
Force a smile, a dead eyed, dull grin,
Hoping when friends hug you don’t flinch.

Centre of the tooth, with nerve in place,
I’ll drill a hole through every single one,
Thread through each a fine steel string
To pull them slow with a hand crank winch.

When you’ve walked passed each other
Have you been filled with complete terror?
Did you grasp tightly at your fabric clothes
As though they’ll protect from the shame?

It’s so gratifying to watch as you suffer.
The chemicals turned your skin to leather
It’s time to cut that wailing tongue into rows
I hope I don’t strike a vein, I like this game.

Does the night bring back all the memories
That weigh you down with its terrifying grip?
Do you hope that by the morning sunrise
Your heart would stop it’s painful beating?

I’d quit the whining, there are no remedies
As I watch you choke behind glued lips.
I can’t stand to be devoured by your eyes
But a pin prick will remove their seeing.

Are your days filled with asking why?
Blaming yourself for being the prey,
Breaking yourself down ‘til you barely exist
Pretending it never hurt you that much.

I’m sure you’re all but ready to die?
But you don’t look like your inner decay!
I’ll let you decompose in your own shit
Because a touch is not just a touch.

Buried Under the Rose Bush

We never mastered houseplants.
Above and beyond, but a foot to the left.
A green thumb was never our best asset.
If you didn't shoot, the leaves would be green.

The potted plants thrived on the terrace:
In the house they just repeatedly cried uncle,
Their roots wiggling like an old b-movie.
Do all new killers go blank in the stare?

Gardening was worse than getting an instrument:
Another substandard, low average hobby
Intended to expand the pointless talking points.
Maybe your urge is due to seasonal pollen?

The effort level of the cactus was minimal.
Yet in a humidity it was still kindling to burn.
Should never have made them my central focus.
The hardware store had a shovel clearance.

I have to straighten literally anything out
So I don't pace 'til the hour of judgement!
You think I could pretend I wasn't here and hide?
If you go down, will you bargain for my pardon?