Buds

The salivating tongue swarmed between lips
Feverishly anticipating
A sense of satisfaction to sweep over
It’s buds.

The trembling hands reached towards gratification
Anxiously anticipating
The touch of a cool fulfilling shape
To grasp.

The pulsating brain prepared the perpetual waves
Of pleasure
To blur its senses and cloud its judgment
For tonight.

The parting lips gave way to acknowledge
The flowing
Of amber fluid sweeping past the gums
And buds.

Tattoo

When one tattoos a name on their heart
They’re never warned of the consequences.
Never told the name would seep into the bloodstream
And cause irrational behavior linked to dementia.
The chemicals soon stain one’s soul
Resulting in constant torment and doubt.

Dark mixtures of red and black ink
Swirl and collide within the arteries.
The pupils swell, while the beating of the heart
Increases with every poisonous drip.

The body doubles-up in writing pain
While air refuses to fill the lungs.

One stumbles in the shadows calling
For the name that brings demise,
Longing for life, yet receiving none,
Clutching the infected cage. Unwilling
To remove the poisonous stain.

This name, this tattoo.