Beaten, broken, dejected.
I turn to you, hoping to be saved.
I cup you with my bruised hands,
I caress your sculptured carcass,
I close my eyes, gulp my spit,
Feeling you feels beyond heavenly.
Around your sculptured rear
My gentle grip hardens.
The distance between us finally impedes,
You’re pursed between my shaking moist lips.
I fish out the lethal flame,
I set fire to your façade.
As each and every inch of you burns in utter pain,
My orgasm, my ecstasy peaks with every puff I take, seeing the cadavers of your remains.
Your misty soul tickles my inside,
The darkest of the parts finally thrive.
You penetrate down my neck,
My mouth is hotwired to my groins, Jesus I’m reaching.
There you are, you’re at my chest,
The grave pain is ready to be mended.
You embrace my bruising, bleeding chest,
All I need is your aromatic, misty, burning caress.
Well, Well, seems like I’m privileged,
My darling, my savior, you are at my repair.
I puff hard and rapid,
The delicious torment shows no sign of refraining.
You’re dead. You died like a brave man.
I wickedly, selfishly grin. I’m partly saved.
I pay no heed to your burning cadavers down in my ashtray,
I prepare to strip down another of your kind for the deadly coitus.
The delicious torments and tortures sustain,
Packet after packet.
I’m cruel, awfully brutal.
I don’t care, I never have, if you die in my redemption.
May your papered soul rest in peace; You were a good man, Nicotine.
My mind meticulously grins and now, yet again I’m ready to kill.
- Shalini Biswas (07.March.13)
