A Meal Fit For The Wolf


Muzzle agape,

teeth baring pointed tips,

both fork and knife,

dripping salivations

from within' the gateway to hell.

as hungry eyes devour my soul,

even before the first gnash of flesh.

I am, the soup du' jour,

the 'special of the day.

Appetizer, entree and dessert combined.

Like steak tartar,

raw and not yet done,

I become morsel and meal.

Even my bones

shall be gnawed for days,

till every drop of marrow

becomes nourishment.

My blood shall be drank,

like a fine, red wine,

that still had years to ferment

till its full potential

of intoxication.

Yes, you shall swallow me

into oblivion,

until your belly protrudes

with the weight of me.

I hope you enjoy your meal

and I desire it be your last!

For I pray on ending breath,

that I turn your stomach sour!

That your insides twist

in gut-wrenching agony,

while I seep through your system

like wretched poison!


Heave upon your final

intake of air

and choke,

on my very heart!!!!

© 2003

Author's Notes/Comments: 

*NOTE: For those that do not know...MY 'wolf' is the word's Latin form...that of the disease...LUPUS. A much more sinister beast than the animal.

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