O' what desire!
- succulent morsel,
tis by temptation
I am struck -
a ravaged temple
am I
for within ruins of dust
and bones
(a dessert
parched)
mine lips yearn
still
to be dyed
in ink from the well
of your being.
O' cloying scent
of death,
still I yearn
for the apple
- it rests
at your throat
bobbing ceaselessly
in fear - 'fear not!'
I desire naught but a taste
of a tongue
charred black
with lies.
O' what desire!
If you would only rest,
a trencher
for but a single moment,
my palate
I could gratify.
YOU ARE READING
Pushin' Up Daisies
PoesieA collection of pêle-mêle poetry that have been compiled from various emotional states and thoughts. It may be depressing, odd, horrifying, whimsical or joyful but it is all up to the reader to determine whether it is worth reading. Unlike it's cou...
