JeepersCreepers004

Human beings
are scraps
of metal;

meant to be
collected,
melted
down
and
eaten.

The taste
of immorality
is a buffet
of young
flesh.

I make
a living
painting,
of their
bodies;

I feel
their parts
become mine.

A master-
piece
of flesh

rotting and
preserving

into myself.

***

Poem by Christoph Paul, latest work is horror/bizarro collection Demons in The TV

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