4 acessos
Left to clot
My still-blood that tight spot
Inside rot
Painted words
All filled with lies
Cold breath of death
Dressed up in bags
Watered down
Wandered alone
Tied to skulls with regret
Benign matter
Died, the soul
Day we met
Plastic shattered
Wants to feast on every soul
Be her own death every day
Screams for mercy and control
Breath wreaks of sex and decay
Feasts on still blood, lips dusty and grey
She’s our little secret, decomposing every day
Blast at night, carnal rights, danced till high, opened thighs
Funeral light, pale dead eyes
Laid out open for business
She has tricks, God as her witness
Imagine the possibilities
Lifeless and willing to please
Left to clot, my still-blood
That tight spot, inside rot
Blinded eyes
Goose bumps, we’ll never get you
But bent over the toilet
She’ll let you writhe
Cum into death’s eyes
We serve screams
Still blood
And flies