by Nick Gisburne
Her poison-painted talon slits the skin
It frees a pulse of shining crimson pearls
The hunger rises, burning from within
Obsession, hot and heady, swarms and swirls
The blood, at first, is bitter on her lips
The smoke of midnight sullies what was whole
But with her twisting tongue she seeks and sips
And tastes the perfect sweetness of the soul
She drives a deeper channel, to the source
And wallows in the surging tide of death
It suffocates her senses with its force
Enveloping her body and her breath
As darkness drains the essence of her life
Its poison paints the talon of the knife
