WHAT YOU ASKED FOR.
- Dark Poets Club
- Nov 12
- 1 min read
By Lynsey Balloch
You like my hair.
I hope you drown in it.
Hold it. Smell it. Caress it. Eat it.
Tendrils smouldering down your throat.
Strangle and squeeze your insides until they combust –
In flames.
Blood, fire and guts.
Wipes out the waste –
Never fear darling.
Fire grows from rusty, rooted nests.