Plump mouth, small hips, hair, breasts.

He dies ecstatic little deaths

and sighing puffs of labored breaths

won't bring him back to life.


Realize, blinking eyes

He scrubs his right hand till it shines,

but soft regret is no surprise

As he walks down the stairs.


Alone another sits

All made of ass and supple tits

Bones poking through her naughty bits

She cannot even stand.


He had screamed the first time

He heard sounds of attempts to climb

up flights of stairs while fully blind.

The first dream was headless.


She bled from her lean neck.

Like something he should resurrect

He had never been so select

As to image his ex's eyes.


The monster finally stilled,

He dialed her, panicked and unskilled

He cried when he found he'd not killed

The girl he had honored.


This new thing writhes and moans.

He presumes she's pained to her bones

She's made of parts of babes and crones.

He flinches far from her.


He shudders out a 'Why?'

She quiets, as if somehow shy

She makes a gesture that must lie.

Her hand's over her heart.


He looks at what he bode

He lies his hands around her throat

He'll fucking never blow his load

He vows, as her pain ends.