‘Eucharist’ and ‘Death’

The wine drips from my lips

As I devour her body.

The holy altar, dressed in white,

Is the stage of my new hobby.

.

I practice every Saturday

As the sun begins to rise.

By the evening mass the echoes

Of her exultation will subside.

.

Sunday is the holy day.

I’ll spend it on my knees.

I worship every inch of her

Until she is pleased.

.

Drunk on religious ecstasy

But we’ve only just begun.

I bring her further into me

So that we may become one.

.

.

.

Death is but an endless sleep

And I pray to Death, my soul to keep.

But, if you die before I do,

I pray he holds on to you too.

.

He’ll hold you close and take good care

Because he knows I’ll soon be there

To hold your hand and walk along

Into death’s quiet, endless song.