anthropophagist

Hands run up my thighs,
wind through my hair,
susurrate across each rib,

and I languidly give in,
allow myself
to be lost
in tactile
ennui.

I kiss his mouth
and I realize
how much you linger
on my lips

And fuck, darling
I would…
I would…

I would tie you to
the fucking bed
and burn your
goddamn
house down
to clear the
air of your
fecund stench

then walk barefoot
in hot coals  
to dig your bitter heart
from your
blackened carcass
with
my
teeth.

And return as I am.

Return as I actually am.

Not some fucking whorequeen
but a feral goddess
naked, dirty, and covered
in scars,
crawling through
filth with flies
matted in my hair;
charred heart-blood
dripping down
my chin like
like vomit;
sinew hanging
from my lips,

black eyes flashing
ahead,
never back,
looking for the next
sacrifice

Because I fucking
deserve
to be
worshiped.

And I’d take as
final tribute,
a hammer to your hands,
leave them socks of
broken glass,
if I could stop
your first touch;

I’d ooze up your body
and dig out
your trachea with
my shit-covered nails
to never know
what you sound like
when you come

My darling,
I’d eat your soul with
some fava beans
and a nice Chianti
if it would be enough

(fucking enough)

to take your first kiss
from my lungs.