he's stark obvious in his needs.
with cold talons gripping me,
he prepares for his ritual.
his paleness glows in the dark.
the eyes smolder my weakness.
as if an angel dropped from above-
the only difference is of devastation!
the purple skies- a weak omen.
for the beatification is imminent.
i decant the last remanents-
the leftover of my guts-
upon the angelic skin of your feet.
please, hesitate before you grope.
please, hesitate before you devour.
your devout prey, in shambles forth you,
appeals for some hesitation in judgement.
Pray! save me not, though!
i've wanted it for so long now.
its already too late for the delay.
i see the dripping cyanide fill
that would soon undo me.
it tastes saccharine, the last memory.
preceding the death of what i am...
