Feeding

Feed me the flesh beneath that tight suit fabric.

Let me dig my claws into those fine trousers

And tear them apart until every inch of your soul

Is keening in terror, baring itself to the starlight.

Arch like a bow, ripping toes from black earth,

Graveyard dirt.

Open your mouth and give me a pretty exhale,

A vocal exhale full of suffering and delight.

Look at that pretty picture of you, breaking for me,

Shattered on the ground in elegant little pieces

That I'm sure would cut if I dared to touch.

I am no fool; my fingers will stay far from you.

It's alright, you can't die from touch starvation.

Besides, look at you collapsed in the cemetery,

Curled desperately against these tombstones

For the warmth I refuse to give.

There is life inside you yet.