Zombie

He’s like a zombie
Completely dead inside,
He won’t keep his hands off me.
Smelling the blood in my veins
Does he want to caress my body,
Or explore my brains.
His eyes look so cold
But they burn through me,
With his greedy scold.
He stares whilst I undress
He wants to taste my body,
To sink his teeth into my flesh.
He’s making my skin blush
With those hungry eyes,
It’s quite an adrenaline rush.
I see the thirst he craves
He’s got me hooked
Turning me into deaths slave.
I’d give up all my humanity
To taste his flesh
For the rest of infinity.

K

Advertisements

About thedarkestfairytale

Hello Thank you for reading if you would like to contact me please email thedarkest-fairytale@hotmail.com
This entry was posted in Everyday Life, Fairytale, Internet, Poems, Relationships, Social, The Mind, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

31 Responses to Zombie

  1. MultidimensionalHE says:

    Dark Love

    Liked by 1 person

  2. eddaz says:

    Wow…I love the intensity of the words used here…It’s marvelous.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. mroption says:

    Love this so fucking much

    Like

  4. cwaugh212 says:

    I wouldn’t get caught in that kind of relationship. It shows a weakness of character and self awareness. Very dark but very sick. The verse is powerful and perhaps true in some people’s lives, but it is very upsetting to me. Just saying.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: Light vs Dark – charlesewaugh

  6. EDC Writing says:

    Even those that have read you for a long while , know your ways, or think they do, get drawn in, think what you write is real, sometimes maybe, sometimes who knows, the power of your words, you make us care you know… the darkest fairy tales …

    Like

  7. Rajiv says:

    You like zombies, eh?

    Like

  8. She was an artist
    and I was a poet

    I had hoped to tip my arrows with gold
    and drive those golden thought through her heart
    thus to hold her in Time

    I had dreamed of laying her electric blue brain
    upon my stainless steel table
    Dreamed of plucking out her soul
    with my analytical tweezers
    Dreamed of gnawing the bones of her works
    and sucking the marrow of meaning from them

    I wanted to photograph her frightened
    and angry reality through my spectral filters
    Wanted to taste the sour acid smoke
    of her smoldering loves
    Wanted to smell the raw lust she had
    for survival

    She was an artist
    and I was a poet

    I had to cast echoes into the vaults
    of her soul
    Hoped to chart the shadows
    of her surrealistic sunscape

    Bur her heart was always the elusive target
    And my hands were too old
    and slow to follow….

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s