Human-Resources

Blood on my fingertips leaves ribbons down the walls of your temple. Here I am always running. Through your twisted caverns. Through your dripping caves. To worship you and desecrate you alike. I leave parts of myself everywhere so you can never forget what you are about to do to me. This ragged breathing of mine echoing low among your cloisters. I make one last attempt at reconciliation: a honeyed kiss to hide my own bitter taste. But you coil about me as you always do. Your slit eyes glow open in the shadows. Glittering curious serpentine. Tracing silent lines across my open rib cage. My beating glistening jewel pounding swelling awaiting y