I can hear you rot My length along your grave Ear against the cold, turned earth I can hear your belly skin strain Thin against the gasses Pressing to escape I can hear you rot Digesting yourself Generating sticky heat Enough to jelly your fat Blood thick, dammed Collecting in collapsed veins I can hear it pool and bruise your skin I can hear the sucking pop Of your joints coming unglued Your brain is soft and sloshy Your fingers crack and curl I can hear the worms Gnawing at your eyes Slither through your nose Bugs crawl on me too, while I Listen to them eating you I’m letting them eat me, too
Broken promise Broken skin Within the heart The rush of love Without the heart The rush of blood
Captive of the scythe Reaped but never sewn Loves lies pallid, bleeding Upon the weathered stone
Roses are red Your lips are blue Garrote is a French word* For I strangled you
*Not quite sure about this translation, might be some poetic license here…
Lovely! 😬😂
Romance is not dead. *ahem*