Black Instinct

There's the soft pick of the fingers
as they clear the bones,
trembling between the gaps of my ribs
as a black instinct
cleans me open
between the shadows of your lips,
my blood a dull spatter
along the teeth of the devil,
my lungs a dead weight
in his palms
and my heart a breathless pulse
along the seams of his lips,
his name impaled to my tongue
as the moments of this agony
tick on.
I hope for nothing other than
your presence engrained
along the weight of my flesh,
your taste a disembodied lump
upon my tongue to swallow
and the liquid of your voice
a whisper along the edge of my ear
before you take me down.