“Don’t worry. The vein isn’t cut,” you say and I
– no! Don’t touch me
“It’s not the problem”
I pull my fingers trough the trail of blood.
You are impure for sure,
but everyone, even the filthiest sinner is clean at the core,
inside, where it flows, I can smell it now, your innocent wanting, the growing need makes my stomach rumble
and I’m getting hungry I’m getting hungry I’m getting hungry
I need to breathe, need to restrain myself
I let my knees cave in and it’s better to fall, yes, better not to feel.
But of course, you catch me and your bony fingers dig into my hip
and trough your skin I can feel the life flowing, throbbing with fear
Your veins are shivering on my hipbone and my predator muscles are tensing
God I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry
Your wrist is resting on my cheek a droplet of blood staining my lips and
suddenly no price is too great
I dig trough your skin feeling every wrong you’ve done sting, an electric pulse on my tongue
a betrayal,
and every cigarette you’ve breathed in and the virgin kisses you’ve stolen
The tears and heartbreaks and sweat and cries at the first thrust,
and beneath all that you’re pure,
it’s where your weakness lies.
You still dream of becoming beautiful one day
and full and rosy cheeked and hope that maybe someone like I will whisper your name
but all I do is devour and as I’m sating my appetite your eyes fade to grey
You’re pale now almost blue
And so much more like the creature you imagined
waited for you at the end of the tunnel but the light has gone out
the taste is fading and all that’s left is the sour
an empty vessel.


Ok look… I don’t usually write eroticism… but when I do there’s a lot of blood. 



23 thoughts on “Lustmord

  1. Hey. I saw what you posted about getting picked up by Jasper (he’s got me too, magical collector of obscure writers that he is), and thought at first you were nuts – ‘continuous self-doubt’ in a post talking about Miscarriage. I read around more, and you are nuts. You’re bat-shit-on-the-wall nuts, because you got a god damned gift and it’s gorgeous. [insert here motivational platitudes]
    Hell, you have a publisher? I have drain I scrub everyday with a Brillo-pad and Clorox, and it never gets clean with all the shit I wash down it.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Indeed, most people’s initial reaction when I tell them what I really think of myself is to ask me if I’m crazy. Maybe I am! Then again, I heard it’s a requirement for being a writer rather than an obstacle, so hell, I’ll embrace my craziness. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at your kind and beautiful words. Thank you.
      Oh and yes, I’m in touch with a publisher who took an interest in my ongoing novel. I do realize how bloody lucky I am. I hear stories of talented writers fighting to be recognized by the publishing companies and I think what the hell did I do to get there? Feels like I glitched trough a wall. (Haha, video game enthusiast.) Anyhow, while it’s a damn blessing it also brings a lot of pressure. What if I can’t make it to the goal? What if it turns out I’m not good enough? These are the kind of thoughts that haunt me.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Saw this on SD and this is a very intriguing piece of work. Transgressive fiction meets gothic writing meets eastern style horror.

    The frantic nature and strong narrative voice are great, and I think it transfers very well to left-field writing approaches. You have me intrigued and I will definitely follow your other writing.

    Liked by 1 person

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