Sanguinarian

For too long you have sucked

salty years from my forgotten neck,

your barren teeth jabbing still,

always taking,

concealed within a thirsty echo.

Hope drips from a vague wound,

replaced with diaphanous release,

to leave this vacant shell,

this flesh and bones,

this frozen breath coursing through my veins.

In the corner a soul hangs darkly,

wrapped tightly around itself

in malignant memories.

I have stopped expecting it

to rise and gather meaning.

Grasping at straws, none thick

enough to breech your skin

but pricking a thousand tiny holes

in my own resolve;

my body prone to lie in a vulgar box.

Yet dawn’s creeping solace offers

one last freedom. The shaft

plunges eagerly through my dusty heart.

I am not disappointed

this time.