Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Something this way whispers
Murmur of the trees and night
Smiles that meet the lips
Fluidity of motion
Flesh
Crush
Flesh
Desire
Something base akin to thirst,
Hunger in the heart beating
Strong, breaths shallow.
Tactile grinding
Crush
Kill
Crush
Need.

Weep me none o’ that,
I am not the prey.