Apéritif (sacred)

To devour you, my love.

Inhale, inject, impregnate

Your filth placed on my tongue,

Pedantically seasoned

With various diseases,

 

A cure for you, my love.

Wobbly tumor chest

To digest 

By a little girl:

The flesh of  a pig

Must be fed with pearls.

 

And praying to your name above,

We hover.

Ripping, dipping

Each other's folds

With our teeth.

Only souls intertwined in my stomach

Will make our rotten bodies steam.

 

To suggest a deal for you, my love 

I'll suck all your torture in,

Bones scratching against the neck;

Shoving, swallowing, sealing

The Unpleasant.

 

Licking dirt for loving lips,

Well baked, desinfected,

Glamorous silver plates...

And the waiter won't ever get his tip.