deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Pliant Matter of Zombies
Give me your morbid kiss;
that fiendish tongue,
like silver bliss.
Let it make me sick
with masochism,
because I can see -
you are the sting of
mercury.
Give me your rotten
love;
press your lips
of carnage upon
my fading flower.
Let me become
dependant and let me
feed your
resentment.
that fiendish tongue,
like silver bliss.
Let it make me sick
with masochism,
because I can see -
you are the sting of
mercury.
Give me your rotten
love;
press your lips
of carnage upon
my fading flower.
Let me become
dependant and let me
feed your
resentment.
Published 19th Feb 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 7
reads 805
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
20th Feb 2014 2:06am
20th Feb 2014 2:19am
20th Feb 2014 7:08pm
20th Feb 2014 8:06pm
20th Feb 2014 9:07pm
20th Feb 2014 10:02pm
21st Feb 2014 7:03am
