ogre

i pine for yellowed teeth
and deep throaty growls
when the lightning and thunder
crash between the hailstones

there in the storm
i rage for the joy of rage

i yearn for charred flesh
and endless scars
that mar the thick skin
of a strong spine

there in the trantrum
i lust for the thrill of lust

i scream for coarse hair
and dead black soulless eyes
when there stars are dark
and the moon gone

there in the darkness
i spit for the taste of spit