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Quench your thirst — I want to feel your heavy
cold breasts on my back when you mount me. Scrape

your claws across my skull as you hold me
down with one hand, exposing the soft nape

of my neck pulsing with my dull, mammal
blood — I’ve never let anyone do this

before. Love is so had to find. People
say that they’ll work for it, work for this bliss,

but how many do? Is this love perverse?
Then I’ll keep it for all those who’ve tasted

strange ways. Burn me with that violent green flame
in your skin. I’ve tasted rough. I want worse.

Quick, bite here, suck on my lips, lap this blood;
tomorrow none of this will taste the same —