The Antics of Nekromantics - AKA X-GF
As she lye there dead on a stained red bed, I pulled down my pants and asked her, "What would you like me to do?" Despondent in speech, I reach for the remote and turn on the T.V. Screen to hide the sound of silence. The stench is potent and the air is stale with a scent of poison lust, I must begin before she awakes with disgust. In and out with no emotion or care, I stare into wide open eyes staring frozen off into space, a waste of time but it keeps her mouth shut for twenty minutes or so. The fetish of sleeping with someone asleep becomes old, as the days pass her skin become gray. The only words that come from her mouth are, "Please stay!" At this point I become nervous, everyone is beginning to notice, I finally buy something nice, a hunting knife, and find a way to fit her in a small box. Down the river she goes, telling everyone how bad I am beneath the sheets. I have but one response to her and all her followers: I have never been a big fan of necrophilia.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.