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My Private Journal
I am the murder
of crows
that invade your field.
Uprooting your
ripening veins.
Thrashing at your moribund shell.
Your scent completes
the eventide air;
the nocturne of our carnel taboo.
I burn the image
of this pentagram
across your quivering thighs.
A reversed image of the pentacle
engraved on
my heart.
Our private little nihilism
during tonights
black harvest.
Reaching nibbana
through my own moistening.
My breath stirring
your wetness.
Your clitoris pulsating
with antinomian chants.
Noshing and
nibbling,
our whisper in the shadows,
cast by the
moonlight against my tongue;
against your labia and then to your mons.
Tremers and
goose bumps
and fluttering flesh;
your tiny light hairs tingling
across your
stomach and up
through the sweat dew drawn
valley between
your lissom breasts.
And finally...
I reach the
coarsing veins
in your pale creamy neck
and dig my fangs
in.
Clenching my jaws till you writhe no more.
I lick my blood soaked
lips
and swallow
the thick gravy from your sex.
-JadeLust-
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