#117 – Divinest wine

You're of the divinest Who my lips request A kiss by free-will, not by behest. I imagine the taste sweet: the finest Wine. Trap me as the grape Vine, which in growing takes Time. Kiss me to wake, Bind us as one while morning breaks.

#116 – Vice

Watch him for the first time, With his first victim's face. Piercing, and delving, he stabs With shaking virgin rage. There is a first time for everything, And this is the thirst. With pleasure and sickness, The eyes; his own about to burst With pleasure at his turning to dust, And piles of bloodied flesh. Which he transformed to … Continue reading #116 – Vice