A phantom never dies

this phantom whispers
in my ears
of all the things we could do
with these slender, strong hands

built like a warrior
this mind grabs my thoughts
as I move away,
sings seductively until I return
for sweet release

one moment is all it takes to succumb,
one person, at the right time,
one dreadful minute
of complete awareness
knowing what I will do

waving goodbye to reality, I run blind
toward this ghost
of feeling that captured me
so long ago, that night
when I found myself

darkness and jealousy--
was it envy? was it hate?
there was nothing
but this terrible seductive siren
harking luring calling...

this phantom holds me strongly
knowing these hands,
knowing their skill,
knowing blood will satiate

it guides me toward the steel glitter
of the butcher's knife
designed for animals,
for they are animals,
meant for slaughter

it leads me forth to cruise the street
for pleasure,
to find one broken truth
waiting for justice and mocking freedom

it whispers in my ears
and moves my hands
until that breath marries
and all I hear is the croon
of my phantom,
never gone
from my side.