Blood

Accidental teeth tear into lenient flesh,
the electric jolt, the diffuse pain, the entire body aware
and focused.

With my tongue I prod the wound, separate its folds,
let the taste of blood tickle my throat, like syrup or
melted wax.

Veins dilated, blood like fire burnt through open passages.
Eyes unblinked, head down, feel my heart race then stop, still,
the last drops of blood drained like bathwater.

Too Much Blood

I have too much blood so I bleed.
I bleed blood like syrup,
blood like melted wax,
blood like butter,
blood like a subway train under my fingernails.


Title=teh suck. Short, pointless, fulfilling assigments. I think I've used some variation of 'melted wax' in something like 37% of the poems I've written in the last year.