savage
beauties hunting, there is no bloodless trail but
I'd
pay the tithe to color their lips, the violent
thrashing
tide held in the throes of a dying language.
a
one way ticket to the abattoir. I squeeze my
shattered
limbs into their grasp, feel the fine
toothed
terror ripping up my spine, my life splatters,
drained
not a drop is wasted, a communion of claws
and
meat. Intimacy and the final answered prayer
.
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