Flesh for sewing,
bones for tools.
Blood for flowing.
intestines for jewels.
A gallery of treasure within the cadaver,
he knew he just had to have her.
Ribs pried open, guts on display,
he plucks the beating organs, blood spattered array.
Stitching together the weightless carcass,
to fill the void of aching catharsis.
A lonesome scavenger of marrow,
his presence alone can bleed and harrow.
He longs to find the piece that will make him whole,
so he takes and breaks their miserable souls.
Try as he may, he will always be empty,
the lives he has consumed are nothing but a memory.
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Nocturnal Lullabies (#Wattys2018 Winner)Poetry
Even within the deepest and most hideous depths of darkness, we may find a glimmer of beauty. Gothic, gloomy and macabre poetry. Featuring works inspired by phantoms, occultism, vampires, cursed maidens, tragic monsters and other haunting themes sur...