You can’t see my eyes. You can’t hear my mouth.
I’m just a flat object, a pile of disoriented flesh, swimming, jumping, swirling, curling on the edges, in ribbons before satisfactory landing on your tongue.
The teeth. There is not much for the teeth.
In darkness of your breath, I slide gently but abruptly in the inner side of your neck,
Softly, eagerly dancing in the fire, until the acidic ash hits just the right spot of your brain.
Your heart pounds in rhythms of undecided rain drops, sounds of childhood and winter Sunday nights.
I melt with vigor you’ve never met before.
Sometimes you like to put me in the broth of your mind,
To troth with lust disguised as a longevity tip.
You suck my marrow as you swiftly dust the grease from your fingers.
You pour me in bottles so you can relinquish your bottomless thirst,
a sustenance for you, only you, as
take, take, take
only take bursts from your infertile chest.
The most innocent cloud, the most invisible feather, to bath your insecurity,
Your excuse to execute another moral sin, how much you’ve been keen
To mould me, fold me in isotropic modes of yeast, always ready for you to feast.
Yet I am patient. I can wait for days, ..no, no days.
Months, years or decades to show you my true face.
I sneak quietly, to the chambers of your never-dreaming dream
you don’t know I’m still there. I am a diligent builder, brick by brick, vein by vein, I subdue, construct, bifurcate rivers, over the brim with crimson pools in your head.
Sometimes I sit across the table of your liver. You seem bitter with the hand delt. The amniotic charge has its own charm.
rebellion so sweet and seldomly stopped
It’s so easy for me to grow into you. I’ve never played the victim role.
I am big like a thunderstorm dispatched hot balloon.
And your cheeks are sunken like a sad masquerade threat.
Autophagy is a distant memory of a cannibalistic bribery.
No, revenge is never best served cold.
Your eroded heart, lost in the exhale of super nova lament.