evanx

Journal Poetry (sucks) Day -

I hate poetry, I can't write it and I can barely stand to read it.

So here is a poem by my good friend and renowned author Matt Bain:

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WHEN I"M MORIBUND

When I'm moribund
feast on my
garnet, candied heart.
Pull off my
ghostface;
wear it as your own.
Decorate my lips
with chloroform kisses
and the darting
of a choking tongue.

When I'm in extremis
suck the marrow
from my fragile
straw bones;
Floss your fangs
with the vestiges
of my tendons.
Filch my organs
for meat pastries;
Throw my husk
to the gods' breath.

Last but not least
pop my spirit placenta
and gorge on the
fetal delights of my
screaming, amorphis soul.

All this
for you
with only
one condition:
Preserve but a
morsel of me
in the annals of
morbid curiosity

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More of his work can be seen at:
Dark Moon Rising
Unlikely Stories
Cafe Irreal
And various other publications (see also: Black Petals, Space & Time, etc.)