by Nick Gisburne
The pleasure she imagined, blameless, blind,
The heady, hot, intoxicating surge,
Is banished to the margins of her mind
When lust and lies, together, mix and merge.
A killer in a greasy, crimson coat,
A creature seeping sickness, sweat, and stink,
His teeth and talons, tearing at her throat,
Release a flow no beast could ever drink.
The blood, he vowed, would sanctify her skin,
A shameful, sordid secret, sucked away,
But nothing in this brutal state of sin
Can save her spirit, smothered in decay.
The ruin of her corpse is left to bleed,
Too broken to expel his tainted seed.
