FeedingMy skin feels the warmth of a nonexistent sun,as I watch the vita trickle. A beautiful crimson stream.Ingesting vita,Warm, metallic, relief.The fog falls over my mind as I feed,gnawing the flesh gently ,pulling the vita out. I curl to her side watching her eye lids flickerand my fingers trail down her warm stomach."Such a good girl" I whisper kissing her wound She moans softly looking up at me to see what I'll do next.Such deliciously untainted vita, from such a dirty little girl.
Freedom of a roaming childI never saw the urge to leave, The freedom seemed worth the fear.That freedom of frog marshes and Christian meals./Veggies tails clicked off and the children disconnected, they walk through the warm house toward the awaiting home cooked meal. I watched their big white smiles and sank into the relaxed happy energy of family, ah Christian meals./They prayed for her,I thought that was nice.I wonder about their pity,It never crossed my mind.I was left to make my morals,Before the days of guilt.I remember the sickness, Cups of blood.I remember the delirium of night./She laid on the bed with matted hair and blurry eyes, dope sick. Along the side of the exposed mattress sits three big gulp cups of blood. I went outside. She asked me about church and I said we were going, she asked if they had crosses, and i said no. That made her sad, maybe she though my soul would burn forever. That's what I assumed. /" I can take care of myself!" Says the pathetic emaciated lit