Coming in Threes




There are two rogues

that invade my dreams


Their touches are featherlight

they skim up my body

with nails scraping

teethed bared


Humorless chuckles that echo

on each part of these four walls

making the blood in my veins storm


They utter words of praise

devotion drips from their lips

while tongues of worship

melt on mine


Their words cut through the air


Wicked taunts lick its way across

my body in the form of a hand

rough calluses coupled in with

obsidian eyes

sadistic smiles


I want them to swallow me whole

have those little malignant spirits

reduce me to ash






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