Epulo

I hunger

Desperate

As wanton as a hooker

This need
To feel

It’s palpable

How to describe it

This thing that leaves me famished

Is it like…
Feeling your life
As it exits a gaping wound
A wound made with these hands

Is it like viscera
The steaming innards
Sweet and bitter on my tongue

Or the snap of sinew
As my teeth rend your flesh
Hungrily seeking the marrow
Bone splinters testament to my impatience

Perhaps it is akin
To the draining of colour
Your once glowing face
Now pallid
Limp
Dare I say
Dull

Your vital fluids now my nectar
Voraciously gulped down
Quenching an undeniable thirst
Could it be like that

Perhaps

But no

No

It is not

Like

Any of that

It is

All of that

© 2006, Mosquitobyte