Not thirst, not hunger
mouth kept open, unkempt and paler
It bleeds, you wish it is human
One flesh shall the twain ever will be;
unwed yet webbed so fairly
As devout as the skin
As taut as teeth
but burnt and dulling; you are full
of everything you set on fire
A beholder beholden enough,
resisting to unhand the well-nigh ending
It is the eye who sigh at the sight,
kept at hand the lasting feeling
Only then it is human
when you are most sacred within the girth
Only then your mouth closes
when I am bleeding less from the ceiling
