THE DEVOURER
A carnal delight in your entrails lies
Whilst you rest with a mouth full of leaves
A thousand incisions on the whitest of skin
My eyeless Delilah
The snow will be stained as you sleep.
And I will entomb you in the cold.
And I will walk away as I wipe clean my blades
My fifty-third lover with a sliced open throat.
Now speak not my of name as I feast on your tongue
Your struggle is foreplay to me
To puncture desire through most butcherous delictum
Is to walk a god amongst men.
Reluctant and clandestine
A secret meeting of you, and I, and the snow
Your mirroring eyes carved from your head
And I will entomb you in the cold.
And I will walk away as I wipe clean my blades
My fifty-third lover with a sliced open throat.
For I mustn't tread where you roam.
Now speak not my of name as I feast on your tongue
Your struggle is foreplay to me
To puncture desire through most butcherous delictum
Is to walk a god amongst men.
