The Flesh That Feeds and (In)Human Behaviour
by A.E. Cox


The mind thick with a prolonged appetite
and an unsound affection that lingers
It slithers and wraps itself around pale flesh,
sucking from youth its healthy beauty
With yellowed brittle nails and sickly tinge,
the arms of desire grip again quietly
Far from the longed insouciance,
the manic tribe calls of a cycle begin
The inevitable cry will be heard tonight,
within the cruelty of blinding night
A consistent stare of tired red eyes
and hum of inhuman vibration resides
A test to succumb to its threatening pleas
arises once again like a clap of thunder
Trembling of limbs and quivering of lips
create a soft rhythm of helplessness
And as the curtains dance in the wind,
the temptation climbs to its highest peak
It drags its rigid claws along internal flesh
and seeks out the awaiting sweet cries
They pierce the thick layers of air,
filling fragile ears with the intense wrath


The taste of tender flesh
upon my swollen tongue
     feed the Craving

The scent of sweet musk
stings my flaring nostrils
     feed the Craving

The sound of innocent tears
creeping down her cheeks
     feed the Craving

The sight of pink irritation
surrounding the mounds
     feed the Craving

The touch of a weakening grip
around my thick wrist
     feed the Craving